


Cream & Sugar

by musicofthespheres



Series: Black Coffee 'Verse [3]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, FWB, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Lemons, Weddings, chapters 2-6 have been updated, coffee shop AU, now with more subplot, realistic customer service jobs, revised edition, secondary ship: gochi, secondary ship: k18
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 23:45:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 36,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9521330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicofthespheres/pseuds/musicofthespheres
Summary: A sequel to Black Coffee. Life returns to normal. There's a wedding to plan, a girl to win over, and suspicious black cars roaming the streets.You know, the usual.





	1. Dessert

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who's given me ideas, feedback, fanart, and support as I continue to develop the Black Coffee 'Verse! This sequel wouldn't be possible without all your love <3  
> 

“Oh, Goku,” Chi-Chi breathes when she finally recovers from her shock. She nods enthusiastically, launching herself into his arms. “Of _course_ I’ll marry you!”  
The cheering and applause echoes in her ears as she holds Goku close to her. She kisses him all over while grinning from ear to ear, eyes glistening with tears of joy. She pulls back from him and lets him place the delicate ring on her finger, the diamond sitting nestled amongst an intricate design in the gold surrounding it. It’s beautiful. She meets his eyes to find that they, too, are shining with happy tears.

  
Then Goku stands up, and she with him, and kisses her deeply. The moment feels like it will never end.

 

\---

 

Bulma’s hand finds Vegeta’s as they look on. He tenses for a moment before relaxing and gripping her fingers gently between his own. Goku and Chi-Chi embrace and kiss for far longer than he’s comfortable watching, so finally he pulls away from Bulma and focuses on the appetizer in front of him.

The table is alight with chatter and congratulations for the rest of the evening. Krillin relates a tale from when Goku and Chi-Chi were first interested in each other, much to Goku’s embarrassment. Bulma divulges how Chi-Chi wouldn’t stop pestering her to find out if Goku even knew that she liked him. Turns out he was pretty dense and was the last person to know that he had a girlfriend.

  
And of course, as the evening wears on, Goku and Chi-Chi leave first, arm in arm.  
“Hey, lovebirds!” a rosy-cheeked Krillin hollers after them. “Get a room!”

Vegeta rolls his eyes at the vulgarity and implication of the phrase. “I didn’t want to think about that, thank you very much,” he grumbles after the newly-engaged couple have left.

  
“You’re just mad because you ain’t gettin’ any!” Krillin teases, then looks away abruptly as Vegeta fixes him in a murderous glare. He hiccups, mumbles something about the bathroom, and excuses himself hastily from the table.

  
Vegeta growls under his breath and downs the rest of his drink, making to stand.

 

Bulma catches his eye and smiles. “Don’t let him get to you, he’s just drunk,” she says. “He’s never been the cleverest of people.” She pushes back her chair, too.  
“You wanna get out of here?”

 

With a resolute nod Vegeta stands and puts on his jacket. The party at the table all take their cue and begin packing up their things, so by the time Bulma has spoken to the maitre d’ and thanked everybody for coming, they’re the last to leave.

 

She confidently slips her arm into his and leads him outside, where she takes him around to an unlit side of the building. Her car sits in the tiny space against the building reserved for visits like these.

  
“Aren’t you glad that’s over?” she says, kicking off her shoes and hopping onto the hood of the car. The crescent moon above grants them little light to see by, and Vegeta can barely make out Bulma’s silhouette as she reaches out for him.

  
“Incredibly so,” Vegeta agrees, responding to her summons by approaching her warily. He looks down at his feet; the blush that had risen to his cheeks at Krillin’s crass comment still hasn’t subsided. And Bulma had obviously heard him, too, which only makes matters worse. She pats the hood next to where she sits, indicating for him to join her.

 

Once Vegeta is seated, she tucks herself up next to him. The cardigan she wears barely keeps the chilled spring air off her delicate skin, causing her to shiver, and Vegeta instinctively wraps an arm around her shoulders.

  
“So, I guess there’ll be a wedding to plan, hey?” She says, leaning her head against his chest.

  
He grumbles in agreement. “Life is just one chaotic situation after another. I haven't had a moment to rest in literal months.”

  
“You're happy for them, though,” Bulma says, voice aggravatingly teasing. “I know you care.”

 

Vegeta sniffs derisively. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing?” Then, “As long as they don't expect me to get excited about wedding plans. I don't care about any of that.”  
Bulma looks up at him. “Have you ever been to a wedding before?”

  
“Do I look like I have?” Vegeta says, lifting an eyebrow. “You know what kind of life I lived. You people are the first ones I've ever considered ‘friends’.”  
“Well, then this will be your first. It'll be fun. There’s music, dancing, free food…”

  
“Let me be clear, I do not dance,” Vegeta says. “But the free food is tempting.”

  
“I thought that might catch your attention,” she says, startling him when she runs her fingers softly down his face and rests them under his chin.

 

Though he does not feel cold, Vegeta shivers under her touch. He hasn’t dared bring the subject up, but if she wants to continue their little romp from all those months ago tonight, he won’t object. Hell knows they could use the respite.

  
Being who he is, however, the impending consequences don’t escape his notice. If they… if they go there, tonight, there’ll be no going back. For him, it’ll be all or nothing.

  
For her, well.

  
She’s a busy woman, and she deserves to spend her downtime with someone better than _him_.

 

But right now, she’s looking up at him with bedroom eyes, and if he leans down just a bit more, he can just reach her mouth with his-  
He shoves his doubts aside and their lips meet fervently, all tongue and teeth and pure, unadulterated desire. His hands find their way into her hair, pulling her closer. She smells so damn good, he wants to bury his face into her neck and stay there in her warmth forever. “Bulma,” he groans as she pulls away to tug at his tie.

  
Once it’s loose, she unbuttons his shirt and slides her hands unburdened across his chest. “Tell me,” she breathes in his ear. “Have you been thinking about me as much as I've been thinking about you?”

  
“More,” Vegeta growls back, slipping the cardigan off her shoulders and baring her skin to the night air. He laves at her collarbone like a starving man at a banquet, stealing moans and gasps from her as he moves downward. He _knows_ they should stop. They should _talk_ about this.

  
A lot has gone on since the last time they had alone time like this. But none of that matters to him right now; all he wants is Bulma and he won't stop until he has her. His hands slide instinctively across the expanse of her skin, his body picking up the slack where his mind goes blank at the feeling of her.

  
He slides off the car and turns to face the beautiful woman who for some reason seems to want him just as much as he wants her.

  
She pulls him closer to her by the loose tie around his neck, grinning as his hands find her hips easily. “There isn't anybody around,” she whispers. “If you wanted to have a little fun.” She wiggles her breasts in Vegeta's face invitingly. An unfamiliar thrill runs through him at the thought of burying his face in her bosom while exposed to the world around them.

  
“Don't mind if I do,” he growls, sliding the thin straps off of her shoulders and reaching around to undo the zipper in the back. The dress folds onto itself as he guides it along, tongue following the path of his hands. “I've missed these,” he murmurs as he sucks one pert nipple into his mouth.

  
Bulma cries out into the night air before clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle the noise. “God, yes,” she groans once she has herself under control. “You have no idea how many times I had to stop myself from - oh! - from jumping you while you were in the hospital.”

  
Vegeta flicks his tongue around one nipple and grins around her breast as she cries out again. “Mm, planning to take advantage of poor, injured me, were you?”

  
“I might’ve been,” she gasps, throwing her head back and gripping his hair tight in her fist. Her hips buck off the hood of the car as his teeth graze her nipple.

Vegeta looks up at her to see her watching him back, lip between her teeth. He grips her breast with his palm and his other hand lifts her dress up to her thigh. Her legs part for him as he teases his fingers toward her center, fingers dancing across her skin in a way that earns him a groan here and a positively _sinful_ moan there.

“Vegeta,” Bulma sighs as he leans upward and nips her collarbone.

  
“Yes?” he growls in response, having long since left the sane part of him behind.

  
“Touch me,” she commands and pleads all at once. “I need-” her words are cut short by a sharp inhale as his fingers press against her through her panties.

  
“What was that?” He smirks, running his finger along the fabric. Shit, it’s already damp. He pauses for just long enough for her to get a sentence out.

  
“I need you to touch me,” she gasps. “More. Please.”

  
“Like this?” He runs two fingers down her alley, pressing the fabric against her.

  
She nods breathlessly, angling her hips toward him. “Yes, yes, just like that,” she moans. “Just like that.”

  
Paying no heed to the dirty ground, Vegeta kneels down and watches her expression as he kisses at the inside of her knee, fingers still pressed against her. His mouth ghosts up her leg, up the inside of her thigh, but before he meets his hand at her center, he moves to her other leg and repeats.

  
“Vegeta,” Bulma gasps. “Please.”

  
Vegeta presses his tongue to the damp fabric and laps upward, causing her to writhe beneath his ministrations. He hooks a finger inside the fabric of her underwear and pulls it aside to blow gently against her sensitive flesh. “Like this?”

  
“More,” she begs.

  
Without hesitation, Vegeta gently parts the tuft of blue hair that covers her clit and gives it an experimental lick. Bulma’s subsequent sigh urges him onward, and he tests different angles until he hits upon the one that makes her pull his hair and clamp her thighs around his face. He pulls away momentarily to lick his fingers before returning to the sensitive bundle of nerves. His index finger teases at her entrance, circling it and probing gently, discovering her responses and adjusting his methods accordingly.  
Bulma’s hips buck forward, pushing his finger further inside of her. “Another one,” she gasps. “Tease me. Please.”

  
Vegeta is only too happy to follow her instructions, pressing another finger inside and savoring the way she throws her head back. A nagging voice in the back of his mind urges him to curl his fingers inside her, so he obliges. The resulting gasps and moans tell him he’s definitely on the right track. As her slickness guides his fingers in and out of her, he glances up at her expression. The pure pleasure evident on her face makes him so goddamned hard that he wishes he could just take her right here, right now.

  
He leans his face into her center and flicks her clit with his tongue, savoring the flavor that is uniquely _Bulma_. He twists his head to the right slightly and Bulma fists her hands in his hair again. That’s the spot.

  
“More, don’t stop,” Bulma gasps. “That’s it. Right there.” Her barely-coherent instructions impel Vegeta onward. He wants nothing more than to hear her pleasure every goddamn night of his life.

  
He grazes her with his teeth ever-so-gently and Bulma cries out before clamping a hand over her mouth. Briefly, he wonders if they should take this somewhere else so she can be as loud as she likes, but he’s pretty sure she’ll have his head on a pike if he stops now. He sucks her clit into his teeth, pulling and lapping at it with increasing gusto as she eggs him on.

  
Vegeta’s fingers tease and scissor inside of her dripping cunt, and if the way she’s whispering “fuck” over and over is any indication, she’s getting very close to coming. Vegeta never thought he’d be so lucky as to get off someone as beautiful as she, but being as turned on as he is, he doesn’t want to question the privilege.

  
“Oh, God, I’m gonna-” Bulma bites out, moments before her entire body tenses up and Vegeta feels her insides contracting rhythmically around his hand. She lets out a long, low groan; her hips vault upward and hold their position as she rides the waves of her orgasm before finally collapsing back against the hood of the car. She desperately pushes Vegeta’s head away from her over-sensitive clit and clamps her thighs shut around his hand, breathing heavily. After several moments, she opens her eyes and looks down at Vegeta with a crooked smile.

  
“Fuck,” she says, the very picture of articulation.

  
Finally, she opens her legs so that he can retrieve his hand. His other still strokes up and down his cock, which could really use the attention right about now. Bulma looks utterly devastated and his cock strains against his suit pants, begging for the same release bestowed upon her.

  
When she gathers the strength to sit up, she notices him palming himself and looking up at her from his spot on the ground.

  
“Let me help with that,” she whispers, drawing him to his feet. She unbuttons his pants and pulls his rock-hard erection free of his underwear. She fondles him tentatively at first, getting the feel in her hand for his swollen member, before stroking in earnest. Far too soon, he can feel the building heat pooling in his belly.

  
She licks her lips and prepares to lean down, but the very thought of her mouth on his cock brings Vegeta right to the edge.  
“Bulma-” he chokes out, gripping her shoulder in warning.

  
And then she locks eyes with him and fucking _squeezes_. The resistance of the head of his cock pushing against the ring of her fingers proves to be too much, and in the moment that he finally pushes through, eyes still on hers, he comes. Hard. His hot seed spurts out onto the pavement and he groans, desperately thrusting against Bulma’s hand until he’s too spent to move. She continues stroking his cock as the last of his fluids dribble out and down his shaft.

Finally, she lets go and reaches daintily into her purse for a tissue, cleaning off her hand before handing it to him. He takes it and stares at it for a moment before his brain processes what it’s for. After cleaning himself up, he tucks himself back into his pants and zips them up. He looks up at Bulma and swallows hard. Though it’s hard to see in the low light, Vegeta thinks he can detect a hint of a delightful flush on her cheeks.

Well, that happened.

There’s no going back now.


	2. What a Thankless Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was wondering if it would be wise to update this during TPTH's smutfest, and yet here it is. Enjoy. <3

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Bulma asks, finding her cardigan and slipping it back on like nothing had happened.   
“I, uh, I have to work early,” Vegeta mumbles, looking over his shoulder and realizing for the first time in a while that they’re technically in public. “I should get some sleep.”   
“Of course,” Bulma says, a half-smile planted on her face. Her eyes shine with some unreadable emotion - relief? Disappointment? Regret? Vegeta isn’t sure. “I’ll stop by tomorrow.”   
“Yeah.” Vegeta nods once, curtly, and turns to leave. Before he can take a step, Bulma closes the distance between them and grabs his wrist. She pulls him down and gives him a kiss on the cheek before letting him go and walking back toward her car.   
Vegeta places a hand over where she kissed and stares after her as she gets in and starts the engine. 

\---

The blaring of the alarm clock drags Vegeta from his uneasy slumber. With far more force than is necessary, he swings a fist at the contraption, silencing it with violent finality. He rolls his head to the side to look at the mess of plastic and wire and groans.   
Time to get into the 21st century and start using his phone for his wake up call. 

The memories of last night flood into his mind and cause his member to stir beneath the sheets.   
“No,” he tells himself out loud, resolutely. With great exertion, he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Before he can do anything today, he needs to stretch and go for a run. It's only a bonus that it'll clear his head, too. 

Upon his return, he strips off his t-shirt and shorts into the laundry bin. The time on his phone reads 6:02, which means he has time for a quick shower and breakfast before heading to the cafe. The hot water pounds against his sore muscles, loosening them up further. Goddamn, he’s tired. He really needs to get back into a routine of actually going to sleep on time. 

Once out of the shower, Vegeta slowly buttons up his work shirt and studies himself in the mirror. Thankfully, he doesn’t look quite as shit as he feels, and because he’s working with Piccolo today, he won’t have to answer any invasive questions. 

Piccolo arrives at the same time that he does and the two nod at each other wordlessly. Vegeta feels a pang of envy at how well-rested the barista looks. The asshole probably went home straight after the dinner and slept like a baby. Bastard. 

“When are we implementing summer hours?” Piccolo asks curiously as he comes in from putting the A-frame sign.   
Vegeta looks up from the condiment station, where he’s setting out the creamers for the morning. “Why do you ask?”   
Piccolo shrugs. “If we stay open later in the summer, people will come in. Besides, I hear they’re re-opening the old movie theatre down the road and if you want to capitalize on summer blockbusters, that would be the way to do it.”   
“We’ll have to hire more staff,” Vegeta replies, nodding slowly as he makes up his mind. “I’ll write up an ad when it isn’t busy later.” 

\---

As it turns out, there isn’t a single moment of respite from the time they open until after the lunch rush. Vegeta calls Krillin in an hour early for his shift; the latter complains mildly but comes in anyway, though he dons a pair of dark sunglasses.   
Piccolo and Vegeta share a glance and smirk. “Payback,” Vegeta mutters in the shorter man’s ear as he swings by on the way to the cash register. Krillin blushes crimson at the remark and scurries into the back to put on his apron, his fear of Vegeta having returned to him upon daylight and sobriety.   
When Vegeta finally gets a moment to step off the floor, he quietly retreats to his office to post help wanted ads on local job search websites. And when he finishes, he emerges from his office to find a lineup that extends out the door.   
“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks, hurriedly tying his apron around his waist. He starts taking drink orders down the line and fulfilling food requests. The people near the front of the line frown impatiently.   
“About time somebody else showed up,” one middle-aged lady sniffs. “I’m in a hurry, you know.”   
“I’m sorry about the wait,” Vegeta tells her, though he doesn’t feel sorry at all and in fact thinks that maybe people shouldn’t come into a busy coffee shop if they’re in such a rush. “This is only our second day of re-opening and it’s taking the team a while to hit their stride.”   
“Excuses, excuses,” the lady mutters and rolls her eyes.   
Vegeta keeps his best Front-of-House smile on his face while his inner stress levels rise. “Can I get a coffee started for you?” he manages to grit out without sounding too much like he's ready to bite her head off.   
The lady regards him slowly from head to toe before her eyes return to his face. “I want a decaf pour-over with three pumps of sugar-free vanilla and extra-hot steamed milk on top, but only about half an inch, so I don’t want to be charged for that.”   
“Of course, ma’am,” Vegeta says, emphasizing the honorific almost sarcastically as he marks up a cup to pass along to Krillin on the bar. The lady watches with a look of disdain as the cup is set behind a lineup of four others. “Can I get you anything else?”   
“No,” she snaps. 

Once Vegeta finally reaches the end of the lineup, he returns to a commotion at the drink hand-off. “This isn’t the size I wanted!” the same lady from before complains. She points at Vegeta accusingly. “You didn’t ask me what size I wanted!”   
“Well, ma’am, you saw me write the cup and put it down. You then proceeded to the till to pay for your beverage, and then you waited for it to be made. Don’t you think you might have mentioned that sooner than now, especially since you're in a rush?”   
The lady’s face contorts into one of seething hatred and she shakes her finger at Vegeta. “I demand you make my coffee in the _proper_ size!” she very nearly shrieks.   
“Of course,” Vegeta says, taking the other beverage off the handoff plane before the beastly woman has the opportunity to grab it. “Let me just dump this out and remake it. It’s going to take another five minutes because it’s pourover.”   
The look on the woman’s face is well worth the scene she causes as other customers to stand in a wide circle around her, no one wanting to get too close to her wrath.   
“Weren’t you in a rush?” the customer who was behind her in line asks mockingly as he picks up his latte.   
Once the lady, whom Vegeta has nicknamed “pourover princess,” finally has her drink in the desired size, she snarls at the baristas behind the counter. “I’m never coming here again! Your head office _will_ be hearing about this!” 

“Should I tell her?” Krillin mutters as she storms away, swearing as she spills hot coffee on her hand.   
“Nah,” Vegeta says, the sight making up for the entire unpleasant interaction with the woman. 

“What a horrid person,” the next customer in line says.   
Vegeta is suddenly and roughly shoved aside from his place on the till, and he looks down to see Krillin eagerly taking his place. “What can I do for you?” he grins at the customer, a somewhat familiar blonde woman who returns his smile.   
Vegeta squints at her. He’s definitely seen her before.   
“I ordered a vanilla latte,” says the blonde with a smile. “Medium.”   
Krillin hurriedly punches the order into the machine and hands the card reader to her. “Can I get you anything else?” he says as his cheeks turn as red as tomatoes.   
The blonde leans in conspiratorially. “That’s everything for today, cutie,” she says, winks, and walks away from the register to pick up her drink. Krillin’s gaze follows her until Vegeta snaps him out of it.

“The heck was that?” Vegeta asks disgustedly, pulling Krillin away from the register by the shoulders and retaking his spot.   
“Sickening, that’s what it was,” Piccolo mutters from the bar, too low for the customers to hear him.   
Krillin, seemingly unperturbed by their comments, sighs dreamily. “She’s beautiful.”   
“She is _way_ out of your league,” Vegeta retorts, before turning to help the next customer in line. “I'm pretty sure Bulma has the same jacket, and those things are not cheap.” 

It’s nearly impossible to get Krillin to focus on anything for the rest of his shift. 

\---

Leaving Piccolo and Krillin to close the shop, Vegeta ends his shift at four. He would stay until closing, but the doctor ordered no more twelve hour shifts for a while.   
And he’d ignore those orders, if he hadn’t made the mistake of telling Goku and Piccolo about them at their last supervisors’ meeting. 

So now he has all the time in the world to sit behind the wheel of his car and contemplate an upsetting fact: Bulma never showed up like she said she would.   
Once he’s finished frowning at the steering wheel, he drives home and frowns at his phone instead. Should he call? What if she’s busy and lost track of time? What if she doesn’t know he was working shorter shifts, and is planning to go to the cafe a little while later, and he misses her?   
Vegeta shakes his head and sighs. When did he turn into the kind of person to sit around and stare at the phone, hoping the object of his interest would call? He’s the kind of person who just goes and gets what he wants, dammit!   
He pulls up their conversation on his phone and sends a text informing her that he’s at home, and would she like to get dinner later? 

When his phone chimes two hours later, his heart drops only a little bit to see that it’s from the group text he has with Piccolo and Goku.   
“Found some kids trying to tag the back of the cafe,” Piccolo’s text says. “So now I've got them inside. What should I do with them? Call the police?”  
“You're big, just scare them a bit,” Goku replies.   
“How old are they?” Vegeta asks.   
“Too old to be out tagging,” Piccolo says, accompanying the text with an eye roll emoji. “And they're not intimidated. Ballsy little suckers.”  
“Directionless teenagers?”  
“Try early twenty-somethings. They're whispering to each other and looking at me. One of them looks really familiar, actually. I think she came in earlier today.”  
A few moments later, he texts, “oh my god she took off her hoodie. It's that girl that Krillin has a crush on.”  
“I'm gonna tell Krillin that his girlfriend is a delinquent,” Goku says. “He'll just love that.”   
“I think I'm going to interview them,” Piccolo says a few minutes later.


	3. New Hires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N August 27, 2018:** _Updates in this chapter include changing the direction of the “so what are we?” conversation that Vegeta and Bulma have. I’m afraid many of you may not like it, but I can’t stay away from slowburn plots so HERE YOU GO!!!!!!!_
> 
> If you're interested in how Krillin and Eighteen met, see The Pink Apron Fiasco, part two in the Black Coffee 'Verse series (of which this story is a part).

Vegeta wakes up from his accidental nap to his phone ringing. “Yeah?” He answers groggily.  
“Hey.” It's Bulma, and Vegeta sits up straight at hearing her voice. She sounds apprehensive. “Hey,” he replies in kind, voice betraying his own uneasiness.   
“I'm sorry for not getting back to you sooner. Do you still want to get a bite to eat?”  
Vegeta looks at the time on his phone; the clock reads 8:12. His stomach growls. Yeah, he could definitely use some dinner.  
“Yeah, I'm starving,” he says.   
“Oh, no! You didn't wait up for me, did you?” Bulma asks.   
“I had a nap, so not intentionally, no,” he says.   
“Alright. I’ll come pick you up in ten?”   
“Yeah.”   
Vegeta stares at his phone once they hang up and sighs. He hopes that seeing her in person after the events of the previous night isn't as awkward as it was over the phone. When she knocks on the door exactly twelve minutes later, he discovers that there will be no such luck.   
She gives him a tense smile and they walk to her car, a loaded silence hanging precariously between them.   
But she doesn't start the vehicle. Her hands grip the wheel and twist, her thumbs running back and forth over the texture. “I've been thinking,” she starts.   
Uh oh, Vegeta thinks, alarms going off in his head even as he fights to keep his expression neutral. Here it comes. She’s going to break it off before it can even start.   
“We haven't had a chance to talk. About us. About where…” She gestures at the air between her and Vegeta, “Where this is going.”   
“And now things are complicated?” Vegeta offers solemnly, mind running through the myriad different ways this conversation can go, though he keeps settling on the worst possible scenario.   
“They are a little bit, yeah,” Bulma sighs, looking away from him. “Back when… when we were on the beach, we said we were going to talk about it more. That we’d take it slow. I wasn’t thinking straight last night. I made a mistake, and I’m sorry.”   
“Ouch,” Vegeta mutters. “But you're right. It was a mistake. You have to focus on your career, and I'm not the guy you should be with. I'll only hold you back.” He stares down at his hands as she doesn’t answer, then moves to exit the vehicle.   
Bulma looks up sharply, her blue eyes shining and piercing at the same time. “It’s not that,” she says, reaching out to grasp his arm. “I want to be with you, Vegeta, but I want to go about it the right way. And I can’t give you that right now.”   
Vegeta frowns at her, contemplating the implications of what she’s saying. The fact that she wants to be with him at all warms his cold heart. He wants to be selfish, to talk her into it, but he doesn’t know what ‘the right way’ actually is.   
“Dinner, then?” Bulma asks quietly. 

\---

Vegeta doesn’t admit to Bulma that he refuses to be the reason holding back the world’s brightest aerospace engineer from sending humanity to the stars. And Bulma states that she doesn't want to interfere with the operating of the store that keeps nearly her entire circle of friends employed. But they’ll still be friends, and one day, when the circumstances are right...

After Bulma drives them back to the compound, she gets out as Vegeta walks to his door.   
“Kiss me,” she commands, pulling him close by the front of his shirt. “We've already done much worse.”

It’s a selfish request, Vegeta knows. But hell, he’s selfish too, so he pulls her closer to him, her form melting against his body, and brings her lips to his. Her hands scrunch into his hair and she hums contentedly.   
“Good night,” she whispers when they finally pull apart. Her eyes are filled with longing but she leaves him standing there and disappears into the night. 

\---

Once inside, Vegeta sinks to the floor and puts his forehead against his knees. The knowledge that Bulma wants him too does nothing to quell the rush of pain that tightens his chest and makes his heart feel like escaping his ribcage. Every part of him aches to be with her, to have her in his bed. He can’t stop the floodtide of emotion that he’s been holding back and tears pour down his face. 

And then he’s exhausted. Once he’s caught his breath again, he falls over onto the floor, curled up in a ball, and pulls out his phone for the first time since Bulma came over earlier. 

There are three messages in the manager’s group chat, all from Piccolo.   
“They seem like good kids, if not a little misguided,” the first one says. “I think with the right training they could be good employees,” reads the second.  
And thirdly, “I think they don't have a place to stay, actually. I'm gonna let them crash on my couch for a bit.” 

\---

Vegeta arrives at the cafe at the crack of dawn, still in his running gear. Doctor’s orders be damned; he’s going to put in as many twelve hour days as he likes. After stretching, he pulls the gym bag from his shoulder containing his work clothes and changes into them. 

When Piccolo arrives to open, Vegeta rolls out into the hallway on his office chair. “So, where are these kids you've adopted?” he asks.  
“Shopping for work clothes,” Piccolo says as he follows Vegeta inside. “They only had a handful of outfits that are far too nice to be wearing at work here.”   
“So, what makes you think I want to hire them? They're vandals. They clearly don't respect other people's property.”   
“Do you know where I work during the week?” Piccolo asks, raising an eyebrow as he flips all the lights on.   
“You've never told me, so no.”   
Piccolo smirks. “I'm a program coordinator for a community outreach center that helps troubled youth. I've seen their type a thousand times. They just need somebody to take an interest in them and they'll thrive.”   
“They're adults, Piccolo.”   
“Barely. And they've had a hard time of it.”   
Vegeta pulls the cash register from the safe to count the morning float. “I'm not sure I’ll be able to trust them.”   
“You trust me, don't you? I'm assuming, because you haven't fired me yet and I'm still the weekend manager,” Piccolo says, deadpan.   
“What's that got to do with anything?”   
“I used to be one of those kids in those programs. I've been where they are. You don't have to trust them, but I want you to trust _me_. You of all people should know that a second chance can turn somebody's life around for the better.”   
Vegeta stares at him for a long moment. “Fine. Trial basis only. Have them come in later and I’ll give them a second interview.”   
Piccolo smiles as he leaves Vegeta alone to count the till. “Great, they’ll be here for 3:30. Here are the notes from my interview. Yamcha and I can cover the floor.” 

\---

Vegeta stares at the disinterested, dark-haired young man sitting across from him. “So, Seventeen. That your real name?” 

“Mhm. Our dad was a real weirdo.” Seventeen looks away and rolls his eyes. 

“I see,” Vegeta says. What did Piccolo possibly see in this kid worth hiring? He couldn’t even maintain eye contact. “And you’ve never worked in the restaurant business before?” 

“Nope.” 

“Can you wash dishes?” 

“Guess so.” 

Still averting his gaze, Seventeen shrugs. “Guess so,” he says. Then he turns his unnervingly light blue eyes toward Vegeta. “I’m available any time you need me, I guess. I don’t have anything better to do.” 

Well, that’s a bonus at least. “Do you have a cellphone?” Vegeta asks. 

Seventeen shakes his head. “No, Eighteen does, though.” 

“I’ll call her tonight with my decision, then.” 

Seventeen stands. “Okay.” To Vegeta’s surprise, he holds out his hand to shake. And even more shockingly, his grip is firm and sure. He even looks Vegeta in the eye. 

Vegeta has an inkling that the “couldn’t-care-less” attitude might be an act. Only time will tell on that one. 

Eighteen enters the room after Seventeen leaves. Immediately Vegeta notices that what Seventeen lacks in charm, his sister makes up for with an abundance of it. Her easygoing attitude coupled with her strangely out-of-place professionalism impresses Vegeta right off the bat. She answers his questions with ease and an air of assured confidence. 

Toward the end of the interview, Vegeta puts down his notes and regards her coolly. “I need to ask. Why get yourself in trouble? Your professionalism would make you an asset to any company on this street, but you’re out tagging buildings.” 

Eighteen smiles sadly. “Seventeen had his rebel phase a little later in life. I’m just looking out for him--he needed to get it out of his system.” 

Vegeta nods slowly. Piccolo was right about him: he understands all too well what these kids are going through. And Eighteen doesn’t seem nervous, nor does she over-explain, so either she’s a practiced liar or she’s used to covering for her brother’s antics. “I told your brother that I’d like to contact you both tonight once I’ve reached my decision. I want to make it clear right now that due to the situation that brought you here, if I do extend a job offer, you’ll be hired on a probationary basis so I can get a feel for your work ethic. Three months should do.” 

Something unreadable flashes in the blonde’s cold eyes, but the side of her mouth quirks up. “Of course,” she says.   
Vegeta stands, and so does she. “It's been a pleasure,” she says, extending her hand demurely, her small mouth set in an almost-smile. Vegeta shakes it and is startled to discover that, despite the temperature in the office being at a perfectly acceptable temperature, her hands are as cold as ice. 

\---

“Well?” Piccolo asks as the two interviewees leave the cafe. 

Vegeta frowns. “They're interesting.”   
Piccolo smiles. “I can work mid-week next week to train them myself, if you'd like. There's a lull between programs for the next little while, so things will be quiet and Launch can do without me for a few days.” 

Vegeta pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. If Piccolo is willing to take on this responsibility, then who is he to stop him? 

Later that day when Vegeta finally leaves his office, Yamcha sidles up to him looking suspiciously like he wants to ask a favor. 

“Hey, so…” he begins uncertainly. 

“Out with it,” Vegeta snaps after a beat, lifting an eyebrow at the oddly chummy way the long-haired barista is acting. 

“So, my roommate is looking for work, and I told her we’re hiring,” Yamcha says. “Her name is Puar. I think she sent you a resume and a cover letter.”   
Vegeta racks his brain; the name sounds familiar, and he had placed any application with a decent cover letter immediately into the consideration pile, so it’s likely he had placed her application there as well.   
“I’ll take a look at it. Thank you,” He says. He’s wary of listening to any of Yamcha’s recommendations, but the rest of the crew seem to tolerate his existence, so Vegeta knows that he should as well. He just hopes this roommate of his isn’t as unfocused a worker as Yamcha is. 

\---

The managers’ group text is alight with conversation that evening. Vegeta finds it to be a good distraction from the bottomless void his mind wants to pull him into. “I’m still not sure about Seventeen,” he says. “What’s the sense that you’re getting from him, Piccolo?”   
“He’s definitely the risk-taker of the two of them. Eighteen would definitely work better as FOH, but if you’ve got something for Seventeen to do in the back, then I think he’ll be a hard worker. So far the two of them have been surprisingly respectful of my house rules and are keeping their things in order.”   
“Plus we employ exactly 0 women,” Goku chimes in. “It’s time we diversify a little bit.”   
“Speaking of women, do either of you know Yamcha’s roommate? I’ve never heard of her before today, but Yamcha says she applied. Should I set up an interview?”   
“Puar? She and Yamcha have been best friends since they were in middle school. She doesn’t come into the cafe as often because back when F still owned the joint, Yamcha would never get any work done,” Goku explains.   
“He still doesn’t get any work done,” Vegeta replies, accompanied by an ominous ellipsis in the next text.   
“He does tend to goof off, yes,” Piccolo says. “But once we hire more people, we can afford to reduce his hours as necessary.” And then he adds, “Back to the topic at hand. Yay/nay on Seventeen and Eighteen?”   
“I vote we give them a shot,” Goku sends with a multitude of thumbs-up emojis.   
“I’ve warned them that if I hire them, they’ll be on probation. They’ll need to be supervised closely, but I suppose we can give them a shot. Let me call them.” 

The following phone conversation is short and to the point: Vegeta will get their paperwork in order, and they will start on Wednesday.


	4. I Dream Of...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **August 27, 2018** : _This chapter has been updated in accordance with the changes made in chapter 3 regarding the direction of Bulma & Vegeta's relationship._

Vegeta discovers he doesn’t miss training time. At least the cafe is open for business this time, and he can pawn the new hires off on other people. He stands in front of the two of them with arms crossed, gaze flickering between them. “Eighteen, you’ll be with Kakarot in the front. He’s the assistant manager, and he'll show you everything you'll need to know. Seventeen, you’ll be with Tien in the back. He’s good at explaining processes and keeping tabs on things behind the scenes. You're both in good hands.” 

Once Vegeta is certain they’ve both settled into their roles for the day, he goes out into the cafe to clear dishes and tidy up the tables from the morning rush. The door opens and a breeze rushes in over Vegeta as he clears the table nearest to it. The person responsible clears their throat and Vegeta looks up to see the huge bundle of hair that is Raditz. No words escape his mouth, but his expression says it all.   
_What the hell are you doing here?_  
“Sorry to barge in on you like this,” Raditz drawls and grins lopsidedly. “But I got a favor to ask. Can we talk in the back?” 

“Ballsy move, coming here in broad daylight,” Vegeta growls once the office door is closed. “Glad to see that bullet didn’t put you down for the count.” 

“I could say the same about that explosion,” Raditz says, raising his eyebrows and leaning back against the door with his arms crossed. “It cooked you pretty good. Thanks for saving my ass back there. I guess we’re even now, huh?” 

Vegeta rolls his eyes. “You wish. I’ve saved your sorry hide more times than I can count.” He feels his hands get clammy. Whenever he’s with Raditz, he finds himself on edge due to their circumstances.   
Now feels no different. His breathing grows shallow with anticipation as he eyes the other remaining Saiyan. “So what’s this about a favor?” he asks, feeling a pit of dread growing in his stomach. 

Raditz seems unusually calm and collected, which could mean either of two extremes: he’s on the run from very bad people and is going to face his death, or he needs help with something completely inane like moving a couch. Vegeta has a feeling it’s not the latter. 

Raditz shrugs. “There’s some stuff I gotta deal with. Bit of unwanted attention due to all that Frieza business,” he says with a casual wave of his hand. “I, uh, I don’t have anyone else that I trust.”   
So it is along the lines of the former, just as Vegeta suspected.   
“Putting yourself back into debt with me already, so soon after I paid you back?” Vegeta asks, a faux air of casualty reflected in his demeanor.   
“Haven’t got a choice. You know I don’t have just myself to look after anymore,” Raditz says, face morphing into the serious, take-no-shit expression that he displayed only on rare occasion. 

Oh yeah, the kid. 

“I need you to look after my daughter for a few days while I take care of things.” 

\---

“I’m Goku. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Goku says, extending his hand toward the new hire. He still hasn’t told Krillin about the latest addition to the crew, and he looks forward to seeing the expression on Krillin’s face when he discovers that the object of his affection is now his coworker. But on second thought, he hopes Vegeta doesn’t schedule them together otherwise Krillin will never get anything done.   
“Eighteen,” the woman replies flatly, shaking Goku’s hand after a moment of hesitation. “And the pleasure is all mine.” She looks bored - disinterested, even - but Goku notices that her eyes aren’t missing a single thing. She’s smart, he realizes. Smart, beautiful - and way out of Krillin’s league. 

And, speak of the devil, the door opens just then and in walks Krillin, who stares down at his phone and doesn’t notice Eighteen standing behind the counter and watching his every move. 

“Hey,” she says when he approaches the counter. He stops in his tracks and his eyes widen as he looks up at her.   
“What the…? What are you doing here?” he asks, lowering his phone to his side.  
Eighteen smiles at him and it warms up her entire face a few degrees. “I work here now,” she says, clearly enjoying being the bearer of the best news in Krillin’s life.   
“You…?” Krillin trails off, then picks his jaw up off the floor. “I didn’t know you applied,” he whispers. “That’s awesome.”   
“You in to pick up your check?” Goku asks good-naturedly, interrupting their little moment together.   
“What? Oh, uh. Yeah, yeah…” Krillin says, eyes only leaving Eighteen for a brief second. He can’t help but stare as he tries to walk around the counter and down the hallway, and she winks at him just before he collides with the doorframe. 

\---

“Love is in the air,” Chichi remarks to Bulma as find a seat in the corner, Bulma with her iced matcha latte and Chichi with her cold brew.   
Bulma grins at her. “I’m surprised you can even notice anybody else’s love lives right now. Speaking of which, have you guys come up with a time frame for the wedding yet?”   
Chichi blushes and looks down at her ring. “We’re thinking seven months or so. The idea of an October wedding has always appealed to me. We’d like to have it outdoors if the weather permits it.”   
“Oh, that’ll make for the loveliest photos!” Bulma says. “You’ll be the most beautiful bride.”   
“We’ll be making our wedding party picks pretty soon,” Chi-Chi says. “But I wanted to give you this.” She slides a small package across the table to Bulma, who picks it up with a confused expression. Her eyes light up as she undoes the ribbon and the wrapping falls open. Inside is a picture of the her and Chichi in a small, delicate frame. A piece of paper rests on top of it.   
“Will you be my maid of honor?” Bulma reads out loud. “Oh, Chi! Of course I will!” she cries out, placing the gift on the table and launching out of her chair to hug her friend. 

“Hey, beautiful, what’s going on over there?” Goku asks over the bar.   
Bulma holds up the photograph in response. “Your fiancee is going to have a kick-ass bachelorette!” she calls back. Then, to Chichi she says, “I am so honored. Thank you, really. I’ll be here for you every step of the way.” 

\--- 

Vegeta wrings his hands in an uncharacteristic display of complete and utter anxiety. The street lights above him flicker just like they have for years, and he finds himself keeping his head down and walking ever more quickly as he reaches his destination. 

He reaches the apartment door, key in hand. Instead of letting himself in, however, he reaches forward to knock tentatively. There’s a shuffling noise on the other side of the door almost immediately afterward- like she’s been waiting for him. She probably has.   
The door inches open.   
“You’re late,” a very small and scruffy-looking child says, brows furrowed in annoyance. It’s true. Vegeta procrastinated the shit out of coming over.   
“Yep,” he says, shrugging. “You gonna let me in?”   
The girl frowns and stares at him for a long moment. “Guess so,” she says, finally, opening the door and leading him inside.   
The apartment is sparse but pristine. Frieza always did run a tight ship, insisting that his subordinates never be sloppy in their work or their living arrangements. Some habits never die. “Guess your old man told you who I am, huh?” Vegeta asks, nosily casing out the apartment before pulling a chair from the kitchen table and parking himself.   
“Uh-huh,” the little girl says, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed haughtily. Just like her father.   
Vegeta sticks his hand out to shake. “Guess we’re roommates for a few days.”   
“You have no idea how to talk to an eight-year-old, do you?” she asks, an eyebrow lifting in sarcastic, practiced fashion.   
“I know how to talk to a person,” Vegeta retorts. The girl rolls her eyes and shakes Vegeta’s hand firmly.   
“I’m Vegeta,” Vegeta says.   
“I’m Letta Gine, but dad just calls me Letta.”


	5. Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **August 28, 2018** : _This chapter has been updated into the revised edition._
> 
> A huge thank you to [Reda](http://archiveofourown.org/users/reda) for beta-reading!!

“Do you like pizza?” Vegeta asks.   
They’ve settled in the living room now, and some god-awful C-movie plays in the background as they awkwardly try to make conversation. Vegeta isn’t sure which he’d rather be spending his time doing; campy, low-budget films aren't exactly his cup of tea, but talking to an eight year old who's still suspicious of him isn't the most riveting pastime either.   
Letta shrugs. “Yeah,” she says. “Me ‘n dad usually get pepperoni from the place down the street. We haven’t had any in a while, though. He’s been kinda busy.”   
“Do they deliver? I don’t feel like going out again,” Vegeta asks, changing the channel.   
Letta nods, and a short while later, a knock at the door gives Vegeta the perfect excuse to stop making small talk. 

Later, an old space-age sci-fi comes on just as Vegeta finishes the last slice. Letta’s attention remains fixed on the screen, her plate and pizza crusts sitting abandoned beside her. The channel is apparently running a marathon, because another episode airs after the first.   
“Isn’t it your bedtime?” Vegeta asks, checking the time on his phone to see it’s actually well past that.   
Letta turns to him with a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” she says.   
Vegeta shrugs. “Yeah, alright.”   
It probably won't hurt for Letta to stay up so late, but Vegeta is no expert in child care. He knows it, Raditz knows it, but where else is an ex-mercenary to go on such short notice but his other ex-mercenary acquaintance?

After the third episode ends, and after Letta settles into bed, Vegeta sits in the darkened living room and stares at his phone. He should call Goku or Piccolo and tell them about the situation. Hell, he should call Bulma. Who was he to think he was qualified to care for an eight-year-old? 

Deciding on doing exactly zero of those things for now, he instead opens a search for how to entertain kids. He sighs in defeat when the glue-and-glitter-riddled art projects that result tell him it’s going to be a long couple of days. 

\---

Across town, Bulma sits in her lab, tapping her pencil on her blueprints as the margin notes start to blur into one another. She finally sets her work down and spends several long moments staring at her phone, steeling herself for the conversation she’s been running through in her head.

Vegeta hasn’t texted in days. It’s to be expected, of course. She senses that his heart is a little more broken than he lets on, but it unnerves her--especially given their recent encounter. So she begins to type a message, but deletes it halfway through to start over. What is she going to say? “Scrap everything I said, let’s bang?” 

_Drinks tomorrow?_ She finally types and sends before she can think better of it, then sets aside her phone and tries to focus on the prototype before her. Just because they can’t be together in a relationship doesn’t mean-

Her heart sinks when she receives a negative reply. _Can’t, too busy._

Well, of course he's busy. But she’s Bulma freakin’ Briefs, and she can take her own self out for a goddamned drink if she wants to.   
That doesn’t mean she’s not going to pout about having to go alone. 

\---

“You should just tell her,” Letta says casually as she draws what appears to Vegeta to be a space battle. She chews the end of her pencil before meticulously shading in the lines on one of the ships.   
“Tell who, what?” Vegeta says, looking up from his phone, where he had most definitely not been staring at the conversation with Bulma, left on “read” after he told her he was too busy.   
Letta rolls her eyes. “The girl you’re texting, duh. You should tell her to come over. I don't mind. She's probably nice and knows more about doing hair than you.” Letta stops drawing to look at him and pointedly holds the end of her messy ponytail toward him with a pout.   
“How did you- never mind,” he replies, not even wanting to know how or when she got into his phone.   
She stares at him a moment longer. “Go ahead, tell her,” she goads. “Or I will.” 

Vegeta glares at the eight-year-old, who seems to have sized him up and is immune to the withering effects of his wrath.   
She sticks her tongue out at him the longer he stares.   
“Fine,” he grumbles, wondering how he keeps letting this child get the better of him. He types a short response and hits send.

_I'm babysitting.  
Help._

Bulma knocks on the door within half an hour. 

\---

“How did you get here so fast…?” Vegeta asks in awe as he stands aside to let Bulma in.   
It feels almost wrong, inviting her to a space that isn't his in order to assist with something that's meant to be his sole responsibility.   
Letta stands in the hallway with her hands on her hips, assessing the stranger in her house.   
Bulma patiently smiles down at the precocious child and waits to be invited into her space.   
“Please help me fix my hair,” Letta says by way of greeting, then retreats toward the bathroom after beckoning Bulma to follow her. 

Vegeta can hear muffled conversation from the bathroom and searches the outdated wood-paneled cupboards for something to eat while he waits. After some time, he begins to wonder what they’re talking about. He hears his name more than once, and he has to stop himself from pressing his ear to the door in order to eavesdrop on them.

After what feels like eons, the bathroom door opens and Letta stands in the doorway with freshly done hair, hands on her hips and bearing a wide grin.   
“Bulma said I can come see her lab!” She announces. “And that I can try out her flight simulator, too! I've been _beeeegging_ dad to let me try one. Can we go? Right now? Please?”   
“Whoa, slow down there, kiddo,” Bulma says with a chuckle, emerging behind her. “They're doing some big tests today and it won't be safe for us to visit. It'll be a lot quieter tomorrow, so why don't you come over then?”   
“Aw, okay,” Letta says, voice rife with disappointment. “But can we?”   
She turns toward Vegeta, large eyes begging for permission and lower lip trembling for emphasis. He doesn't know why she's having this effect on him - she isn't even his kid!   
Vegeta shrugs and sighs, glancing toward Bulma and her reassuring smile. “Don't see why not.”   
He tries to sound as disinterested as possible, not wanting to betray that he's curious to see where Bulma spends her days, too. And the flight simulator does sound intriguing. 

\--- 

“This is the control panel where our scientists enter variables and test how they would work on a theoretical flight. Right now, the parameters are set for deep space,” Bulma explains to Letta, who stares at Bulma wide-eyed and nods.   
Vegeta hangs back and watches as the blue-haired scientist animatedly explains the principles of flight in different environments. He wonders just how much of this Letta is actually absorbing; Bulma doesn’t hold back from using complicated jargon, and though she explains what she means, Vegeta finds his mind starting to wander elsewhere. _You have to be a rocket scientist to really get this stuff,_ he thinks.  
His gaze rests upon a mock-up of an updated gravity room that sits in a far corner of the lab. Scattered about the whole room are prototypes and models of various sizes, and more blueprints than an average inventor could shake a stick at.   
“-now, would you like to try flying a spaceship, a fighter jet, or an airliner?” Bulma asks. 

Letta bounces with excitement. “Spaceship!” she cries out, grabbing at the controls. “I wanna be an astronaut when I grow up.”   
“Maybe you’ll be one of the first civilian astronauts that my company will to send to space,” Bulma says. “You’re a smart girl and people like you are going to shape the future.” 

\---

“Bulma must be the smartest person on earth!” Letta announces as she buckles up her seat belt. “Did you know she’s gonna send people into space?”   
“I did,” Vegeta says, starting the engine. “She is pretty smart. Smarter than I’ll ever be, that’s for sure,” he adds under his breath. Nothing about the woman ever ceases to amaze him, in all honesty. The way that Letta goes on about her makes it seem like she’s almost as infatuated with Bulma as he is.   
“And she’s _so pretty_ ,” Letta continues. “I hope I’m just like her when I grow up.”   
Vegeta gives her a sidelong glance and pulls out of the parking lot. Raditz absolutely has his hands full with this kid, but he seems to be raising her right. She’s got a better shot at a great life than he or any of Frieza’s men ever had.   
If only she knew how lucky she really is. 

“Some advice for ya, kid. Make sure you learn to work hard at everything. Some things will come easy to you, but work hard at it anyway. One day you’ll thank yourself that you did.”   
Letta looks up at Vegeta and frowns. “But if it’s easy, why would I work harder?” 

Vegeta sighs. Hardly anything in his life came easily to him, but he’d seen what happens to those who try to coast along on natural ability. Eventually that natural ability reaches a plateau and they’re left in the dust behind all the hard workers who go on to achieve greater things.   
“Because one day, someone who works harder than you will do it better than you, and you’ll wonder why you didn’t listen to me.” 

\---

It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning several days later when the front door of the apartment opens, the squealing hinges startling Vegeta out of his slumber on the couch.   
Had he forgotten to lock the door before he sat down in front of the TV? His eyes dart around the dimly-lit room and he grabs the nearest weapon-like object he sees. Lampstand in hand, he creeps toward the front door, ready to swing.   
He rounds a corner only to find himself face to face with Raditz. Vegeta holds the lampstand up like a baseball bat over his shoulders before his brain catches up with what his eyes are seeing.   
“I didn’t know you were coming home today,” Vegeta grunts, relaxing and placing the makeshift weapon on the kitchen table.   
Raditz heaves a duffel bag onto the ground and chuckles. “And I thought for sure you’d be asleep by now. I was going to be home earlier but I got a little, uh, tied up.”   
Vegeta’s eyes narrow at the hitch in Raditz’s voice at the last part. “No matter,” he says, dismissing it as none of his business. “She’s a good kid, not too much trouble.”   
Raditz moves to the fridge and leans over to peer inside. In the light, Vegeta can see bruising on his cheeks and a cut along his eyebrow.   
“Though you look a little worse for wear,” he says, taking the beer Raditz hands to him and cracking it open. “Rough week?”   
“You could say that,” Raditz shrugs, opening his own can. “Nothing to worry about. Not anymore.” 

They sit in a silence that Vegeta doesn’t know to describe as comfortable or awkward. Maybe a strange mix of both. 

He finishes off his beer and sighs. “I guess I should head back to my place.”   
He packs up his belongings and makes his way to the door before turning back. “You have a good thing going here, Raditz. Don’t mess it up,” he says, locking eyes with him for a long moment before disappearing into the night. 

Yeah.  
As if he’s one to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am grateful everyone's continued support and patience with me - I hope my next update won't be so far away! It's coming up on a year since I began this 'verse and I just want to tell you all how awesome you are!
> 
> I update my writing more often and upload more things in general over on [my patreon](https://www.patreon.com/jadefyre) so if you want more content in between updates, I'd super appreciate your support. :)


	6. A Little Night Air Never Hurt Nobody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **August 28, 2018** : _I've updated this chapter so the nsfw is toned down a little. It's still pretty smutty though, so enjoy._
> 
> Big thank you to my buddies [queenofkadara](http://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofkadara) and Chinny for helping me get through this!
> 
> Also a HUGE thank you to the lovely rutbisbe, who drew fanart for the Black Coffee 'verse as part of her Inktober series this year! You can find it [HERE](http://rutbisbe.tumblr.com/post/166257558071/inktober-2017-day-10-fanart-inspired-by-the). 
> 
> And once again... lemons again. Enjoy!

Vegeta’s fingers tap against the steering wheel, ambivalence keeping him rooted to the driver’s seat. The idea of sleeping in his own bed beckons him inside, but a certain restlessness prevents him from following through. 

His right hand finally moves to the ignition, pausing one last moment before turning the key. The engine roars to life and echoes across the grassy hills, and Vegeta shifts the car into reverse before he can overthink his decision.

His parting words to Raditz reverberate inside his head. Don’t mess it up.   
Maybe he should take his own damn advice. 

A cursory glance at the clock tells him his next action is unwise at best. 

“Call Bulma,” Vegeta commands his phone as he swings the car around to the main driveway. 

Bulma answers after only two rings. “Is something wrong?”   
There’s panic evident in her voice, but she doesn’t sound tired, and there’s nothing to indicate that Vegeta just woke her from peaceful slumber. 

“Uh, no,” he stammers, still trying to figure out _why_ exactly he’s calling. 

His brain kicks into gear and berates him harshly for calling her at 3:12 in the goddamn morning.   
“I was going to go for a drive.” 

“Oh yeah?” Bulma asks, then curses loudly. 

Vegeta pulls the phone away from his ear at the sound of shattering glass, followed by more cursing. “Are you in the kitchen?” 

“No, I’m in the lab,” Bulma sighs. “Though I should probably think about calling it a night pretty soon so I don’t keep breaking things. This is the second beaker in the last hour.”

“I guess you’re not up for a drive then” Vegeta says. It was a stupid idea, anyway, a recipe for more heartache. “Go and get some sleep. Or you can bring a pillow and come with me. Up to you.” He cringes as the last part slips out. _Idiot_.

The static of silence on the other end is deafening. 

“Do you need the company?” Bulma asks. 

Vegeta swears he can hear the smirk from all the way across the compound. Has she changed her mind about them? 

“I don’t _need_ it,” he corrects, blood rushing to his cheeks at being called out. “So, do you want to come or not?” 

“Only if you come pick me up. I don’t feel like walking.”

“I’m already outside.” 

\---

 

“Whatcha thinking about?” 

Bulma lays with her arms tucked behind her head, gazing up at the clear night sky. Her breath creates little puffs of vapor that dissipate into the air around them. 

“How nice it’ll be to sleep in my own bed for a change,” Vegeta replies. “I forgot how much it sucks sleeping on a couch.”

His eyes remain firmly fixed on the expanse above them while his traitorous body begs him to move closer to her. He’s been restless, and he realizes it’s because he hasn’t been able to see her for the last couple of days.   
He clued in on that one when she touched his arm and it felt like a jolt of electricity seared every nerve ending on his body and he very nearly swerved into the ditch on their way here. 

Neither of them are very good at this whole “not dating” thing. 

“But it is nice to actually see stars, for once,” he adds quietly, giving in ever so slightly by inching toward her when he shifts to look at her.

They sit at the top of a hill to the north of West City. Its bright lights twinkle in the distance, but the darkness of the surrounding farmland is perfect for stargazing nonetheless. Vegeta surmises that’s the reason Bulma suggested they come up here in the first place -- that, and the privacy it affords them. There’s not another soul in sight. His heart pounds with anxiety. Or anticipation. 

The dew-laden blanket rustles beneath them as Bulma rolls onto her side to face him. She props her head on her hand and smiles wistfully.  
“I used to come out here all the time when I first got my license. There’s something different about the world at four am. Do you feel it, too?” 

Vegeta glances over at her and grips a handful of damp fabric. What is she implying?   
He gets a sudden vision of Bulma bringing lovers out here to fool around. The thought guts him and thrills him all at once. Had this been her intention in bringing him here too?

“Everything is so still,” Bulma continues. She sits upright and wraps her arms around her knees. “I would imagine what it must be like out there among the stars: Quiet, Lonely. I used to come here to get a taste of that.” 

Vegeta can’t help but gape at her. The awe in her voice, the glint of curiosity in her eyes and the relaxed set of her perfect mouth all set his lower region aflame; his breath catches as the overwhelming force of his attraction to her takes hold of his body. 

So she _has_ brought him here to be alone together. 

...No.

It’s not the right time for that. It’ll never be the right time. 

…  
… 

So now is as good a time as any, right?

“Bulma.”

She turns toward him just as he closes the distance between them, pressing his mouth firmly against hers. He can feel her hesitation as she processes what the hell is happening, but it melts away and she returns the kiss with fervor, releasing the shackles of her inhibitions. 

“Vegeta,” she mutters against his lips. Longing. 

“Bulma,” he says again, surging forward, trying to convey with only his voice just how much he needs her right now. 

Bulma pulls him on top of her, taking care not to pull apart as her tongue slides dually with his.   
She wraps her arms around him and holds him close, pulling at his shoulders and back to bring them flush with her body.   
Their hips collide and Vegeta doesn’t know where he ends and she begins. 

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers, panting when they finally break for air. 

Even in the dim of predawn, her eyes shine as she gazes up at him and bites her lip. Her hand trails from his shoulder and ghosts down his arm, raising goosebumps along with it.

Her touch gives him chills that put all the efforts of the night air to shame. 

He’s missed her, too. More than she realizes -- more than _he_ realized. 

He leans down to kiss her again, this time as slowly as he can manage. Each move is deliberate: the way he laps at her bottom lip, how she opens her body to his advances when he nudges open her thighs with his own, how she sighs at that delicious pressure against her core.

They pull apart again as Bulma’s fingers continue their delicate path down to his wrist. She brushes her thumb over his fluttering pulse and they lock eyes. 

The lustful intensity of her gaze keeps Vegeta frozen in place, unable to move until she takes his wrist, guides his hand to her breast. His eyes flicker down for a brief moment before returning to hers in a silent, pleading question. 

“Please,” Bulma gasps her acquiescence as he shifts to straddle her fully. Her hips hitch upward, seeking his body to fill the gap he left when he rearranged himself. 

It’s then that Vegeta notices that she’s not wearing a bra. “Oh.” _Oh._

_She’s planned this all along, hasn’t she._

“Kiss me,” Bulma demands and thrusts upward, throwing off his balance and bringing him down to her again.

Vegeta, of course, is only too happy to oblige, and shoves the nagging, insistent voice telling him to stop to the back of his mind. 

It takes almost no time at all before Vegeta’s hands find their way under Bulma’s shirt. Moments after that, her shirt is flung in the vague direction of the car and Vegeta’s mouth travels from her lips to her neck, and finally he kisses down her body until he reaches the soft swell of her breast. 

His hands continue their journey downward, nearly trapped between the two of them in their quest to be as close together as possible. Somehow, despite the close quarters accompanying their rendezvous, Vegeta manages to unbutton Bulma’s jeans and slip his hand into her underwear. He nips at her collarbone, causing her to arch off the ground and press her chest against his. 

Their imminent lack of clothes soon becomes an afterthought, frigid morning air be damned.   
With their shirts discarded and their pants following suit shortly thereafter, they fall naked together back to the ground. 

Bulma’s breath comes panting out in short gasps, puffs of vapor escaping into the air and dissipating as she scrabbles at the ground with the feeling of Vegeta’s careful ministrations. She grabs the blanket and the grass and everything she can get her hands on as he works her into a tizzy.   
Vegeta himself isn’t safe--Bulma’s hands find their way down and he lets out a gasp of pleasure. 

Long-suffering has never been Vegeta’s strong suit. He gives one final press of his fingers at her core before presenting himself to her pretty, kiss-swollen lips. 

“Mm, you taste good,” she sighs, gazing up at him intensely. She grips the base of his shaft and gives a little twist of her fingers, evoking an unrestrained moan.   
“Like that, huh?” she giggles, batting her eyelashes at him. 

The utterly lust-filled expression on his face eggs her on, and she picks up the pace with the goal of tearing him the fuck apart. Only in moments like these does he completely drop his guard and show his full vulnerability to her, and she plans to use it to her full advantage.   
She wants him at her mercy--to be at _his_ mercy. Vegeta could get used to this. 

Ever so slowly, his fingers wind through her hair. With the gentlest of tugs, he pulls her all the way to him.  
And then she swallows.   
Vegeta cries out in surprise. “Fuck, Bulma,” he moans, still fighting his body’s urge to let go with reckless abandon. She feels too good and he doesn’t want it to be over yet. He taps her on the shoulder for lack of speaking ability, and she pulls away slowly. 

“Had enough?”   
Bulma grins as she pulls away from him, eliciting a full-body shudder.   
She slides her hand down her body and teases herself, gazing at him through half-lidded eyes. “I guess I’ll have to do this myself then, huh?” 

Vegeta growls, pinning her to the blanket and tucking himself in between her hips again. This time, the heady scent of their combined arousal hangs tantalizingly in the air around them. 

Vegeta’s leans down to lap her neck, his hot breath by her ear raising goosebumps along her skin.   
“Bulma,” he groans. “I need you. _Please_.” 

Bulma turns her head to the side to expose her neck to him with a coy glance upward. “Only because you asked so nicely,” she pants, crying out when he grins wolfishly and bites at her pulse point. 

Vegeta moans as he presses against her. 

“Want you _now_ ,” Bulma whines. 

In one smooth motion, Vegeta unites their bodies together. 

Bulma’s next words hang silent in the air between them; she gasps at the sudden pressure.   
“Fuck,” she finally manages. 

In a moment of clarity, all of her pent-up frustration ascends to the surface. They’ve gotten this far, there’s no stopping now. She won’t be deprived of her satisfaction. 

Something feral ignites in Vegeta’s eyes as he angles his hips to hit that sweet spot that will make her his forever--or at least for the night. 

All too quickly, Vegeta can feel the pressure building that signals his climax is near.   
Fuck.   
He has to slow down. Stop for a moment, maybe, just to get his head screwed on straight again before--

“Oh god, don’t stop,” Bulma moans. “I’m so close.” 

That does it. 

With the last iota of control he can muster, Vegeta keeps himself steady until-

“Just a bit… just a bit more…” Bulma gasps. Her breath hitches and she’s pulling him closer as each wave overtakes her body. 

Her sudden grip on him breaks his control and before he can stop it, he tumbles over that precipice right after her.

\---

Long after the waves have dissipated and she’s had time to regain her senses, Bulma unwraps her legs from Vegeta’s waist. She grins stupidly up at him, face aglow with the first hint of the sunrise. 

Vegeta gazes down at her, face tinted red with exertion. He flops down on the ground beside her and throws his arm over his eyes. 

As he comes down from his high, he realizes his mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good day, friends. I have good news.
> 
> Because I am participating in NaNoWriMo this year as always, I'll be updating this story with AT LEAST 3 more chapters this month.
> 
> I'll also be posting my daily writing to [my patreon](https://www.patreon.com/jadefyre)! This will include new chapters of Cream & Sugar, updates on my in-progress (and currently unpublished anywhere else) "Jungle Shenanigans" AU, and possibly even some new standalones!  
> If you're unable to subscribe on a monthly basis but would like to throw a little something my way to support my NaNoing, I also have [ko-fi](http://ko-fi.com/A084GEX), and would be eternally grateful!!
> 
> And as always, your comments mean so much to me and keep me wanting to write, so I really appreciate your support in whatever form it comes in!


	7. Late Night Snack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **August 28, 2018** Updated version! 
> 
> "Jarring Lemons" ahead (it's nsfw, and it's kinda raunchy, so enjoy!) 
> 
> Thanks to PickleandtheQueen for the chapter title and beta read!

“Are you free tonight?” Goku asks, practically bursting at the seams with excitement. 

“Depends what for,” Vegeta says, his sentence punctuated by a yawn. As usual, Goku is acting like an over-excited golden retriever and Vegeta hasn’t had enough coffee to deal with it this early in the day. He’s got enough on his mind, what with the events that transpired last night.  
And the events that transpired after those events. 

“I have a date with my bed and I really need to keep it.” 

“Yeah, you look like you haven’t slept. At all,” Krillin notes. 

Either Vegeta is paranoid, or the tone of Krillin’s voice indicates that he knows more than he’s letting on.  
Or maybe he can pick up on Vegeta’s antsiness and wants to know more, but doesn’t feel like asking. Probably because Vegeta would bite his head off, chew it up and spit it out. Figuratively speaking, of course. 

Vegeta must have been glaring, because Krillin swallows hard, straightens up, and continues sweeping the floor with his back to his boss. “Just saying,” he mutters under his breath. “Maybe you should sleep more.” 

Goku chuckles at his friend and continues. “Chichi and I would love it if you and Bulma could make it out to dinner with us tonight. Have a bit of a double date or something, ya know?” 

“Date?” Vegeta’s spine goes rigid at the word. 

Goku shrugs. “Well… yeah, you guys are a thing, right?” 

Vegeta abruptly turns away and drags a damp cloth along the counter and shrugs. “No.” 

“Are you _sure_?” Goku asks pointedly, head tilted to the side. He lifts an eyebrow at Vegeta’s flustered reaction. “But are you coming or aren’t you?” 

“If I have to.” 

“You do,” an authoritative voice sounds from behind him. 

Vegeta whirls around to see Chichi standing at the cash counter with a grin that twists his guts into a knot. He knows that look -- the one she gets when she’s going to have her way. Having been victim to her wrath in the past, Vegeta decides it is in his best interests to oblige. He’s way too tired to argue right now. 

“Fine. But it’s not a date.” 

\---

Vegeta arrives at the restaurant alone. Bulma is already there, and she, Goku, and Chichi are all enjoying drinks by the time he walks in. 

All eyes turn to him and he tugs at his dress shirt uncomfortably. Bulma looks simply radiant in a turquoise dress, and the hint of blush that creeps up her cheeks when she looks at him makes him swallow roughly. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he excuses himself once he reaches their table. 

Goku beams up at him and shrugs. “It’s okay, you’re here now!” 

Chichi pointedly sips her martini while staring him down. Her ring reflects the light over their table. “Glad you could make it,” she says, tone frosty enough to give him chills. “Finally.” 

“I was busy.” Vegeta doesn’t feel like being the subject of bridezilla’s scrutiny tonight. “Have you already ordered?” 

“Just drinks,” Bulma says, sipping her Long Island iced tea. 

Their attentive waiter homes in on their table like he is telepathically linked to it. “Something to drink for you, sir?” he asks the moment Vegeta sits down. 

“Scotch, make it a double,” Vegeta replies without so much as a glance upward. He’s going to need it if this dinner is about what he thinks it’s about. 

Bulma leans toward him almost imperceptibly. “Wanna try?” she asks, offering her glass to him. 

Vegeta wrinkles his nose at the proffered drink. “I’m not really a cocktail guy,” he says, then goes rigid. Under the table, Bulma’s hand runs up his thigh. _What is she playing at?_

When Vegeta’s drink arrives, Chichi launches right into her prepared speech. “So,” she says, hands clasped together with her index fingers steepled. “We have a wedding to plan, and we need your help.” She turns to Vegeta and raises an eyebrow. “Can I count on your cooperation?” 

“I’m not really a _weddings_ guy, either,” Vegeta mutters.

“We’re planning to have the ceremony on Capsule Corp grounds,” Goku explains as if Vegeta hadn’t said anything. “And since you live there, we were wondering if maybe you’d be able to help set up. You don’t have to be in the wedding party, but maybe you could be security?” 

That idea sounds a lot more appealing to Vegeta if he _has_ to participate. As long as he doesn’t have to smile for any wedding photos then he’ll be happy. And if he gets to knock a few heads for being too rowdy in the meantime? Well, that’ll just be the cherry on top of the cake. 

Once their appetizers arrive, Vegeta falls completely silent and digs in. Though their group isn’t as large as previous gatherings, the other three make enough noise to make up for it. Bulma and Chichi giggle like schoolgirls when they get together, Vegeta has noticed. And Goku’s howls of laughter nearly echo off the walls. 

After dinner, Vegeta slips out to the parking lot while Bulma and Chichi are absorbed in conversation. Having already paid for himself (and Bulma, but she won’t find out until he’s long gone), and with Goku’s attention taken by trying to calculate the tip, leaving unnoticed is an easy task. 

Or so he thinks.

As he approaches his Mercedes, he hears the clack-clacking of high heels approaching behind him. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bulma asks, hands on her hips. 

“In case you don’t remember,” Vegeta says as he opens his car door, “We didn’t exactly get any sleep last night. And I open tomorrow.” 

“We have to talk about-” she cuts herself off, looking down at her feet. 

Vegeta hesitates for a moment. If this conversation goes in the same direction it was headed this morning, he’s in for a world of emotional upheaval that he can’t (or won’t) handle. 

“We could order Chinese, hang out. And, uh, do other things?” 

“Are you coming onto me?” Vegeta asks with a smirk. He can’t say he doesn’t enjoy her attention. “What happened to ‘we shouldn’t be together yet’?” 

Bulma crosses her arms defensively. “I can’t commit to a _relationship_ right now, but I don’t see why we can’t do other things. So, what’ll it be? Your place, mine? Name the time.” 

Vegeta knows this is only setting himself up for heartbreak. “My place,” he says without hesitation. “Tomorrow night. Quarter to seven.”

“I’ll be there.” 

\---

“Uh, hey,” Vegeta says when he opens his door the next night. He dries his hands on his dish towel and steps aside to let his guest in. 

“Hi,” Bulma greets him and takes a step forward. “I know I’m kind of early, sorry.” 

“Uh, yeah. It’s okay,” Vegeta replies. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to come over at all.” The brief thought passes his mind that maybe tonight was not the best night to do this.

After work, he had picked up some supplies at the store and then headed straight home and had taken a nap in preparation for the evening ahead. The final touches were completed just before Bulma had knocked. 

“Looks great in here,” Bulma says, gazing around the room. “Like a completely different place.” 

There are candles on the table, the lights are dimmed, and soft, jazzy tones hang in the air. The only thing missing is the dinner itself. Vegeta’s usual no-nonsense minimalism has taken a back seat for this night only. Maybe he can change her mind, convince her this can work...

“Delivery’s set for 6:30,” Vegeta explains. “I was hoping it would come before you got here, but…” 

“I think it’s perfectly alright if we wait together,” Bulma says, dropping her purse beside the door. Her voice drops low, and she leans in conspiratorially. “Would you prefer the couch, the bed, or the floor?” 

“Right to business, I see,” Vegeta says and quickly pulls the door shut behind her. “You know, we’ll get interrupted if we start now.” 

“Maybe I like a time limit,” Bulma teases. “And a thrill.” 

“After what happened earlier, I’d say you do,” Vegeta chuckles darkly. 

“Do you have what you need this time?” she asks, running her fingers across his chest and tapping his nose as she walks toward his bedroom, her other hand trailing behind her and beckoning him to follow. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, already entranced. 

And she clearly knows what she wants. 

“I feel like I’ve been neglecting you,” she whispers as they enter his bedroom. “So I’ve come with a surprise of my own.” 

“What’s that?” Vegeta asks. His heart rate and his cock have already increased with anticipation. 

“You’ll see,” Bulma replies in a sing-song voice.

Vegeta growls in mock frustration. The tension in the air is thick enough to carve with a butter knife. So he takes advantage of the situation and presses her up against his wall, pulling her head aside by her hair and lapping at her neck. 

Her scent clouds his head with lust. Their their earlier liaison has been playing over and over in his mind like a movie all day. 

“Vegeta,” Bulma gasps as he laps at her jawline. 

“What?” he growls before biting hard into her sensitive flesh. 

“Ah-!” Bulma cries out before regaining her faculties for a short moment. She reaches down and cups his growing erection in her palm. Giving a test squeeze, she uses her other hand to flip them around, pressing him against the wall instead. 

Vegeta captures her lips in his, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth. It’s like he can’t get enough of her; the taste of her mouth, the feel of her supple body against his; everything about her turns him on. 

“Never mind,” she gasps once they finally come up for air. “The surprise can’t wait.”  
She drops to her knees, effectively pulling Vegeta’s jeans off his waist and down with her. Before he realizes what’s happening, she has her mouth pressed up against his length through his boxers. 

He had taken extra care to clean up before she got here tonight, but he didn’t expect it to pay off so soon. “Fuck,” he moans when her hot breath envelops him through the fabric.

It only encourages Bulma’s teasing. She cups him with one and, and with the other she strokes down his full length with just an index finger. 

When Vegeta is so hard that his boxers can hardly contain him, she finally looks up at him. In the flickering candlelight, the darkness of his eyes and the intense set of his gaze send delightful shivers down her spine. She can feel the lust pouring off him in waves; it’s almost palpable. With the added bonus of not being entirely exposed to the world, Bulma has no qualms about yanking Vegeta’s boxers down and freeing his straining erection from its confines. 

“God, you’re huge,” she sighs with pleasure as she drinks in the sight of him. Her mouth waters at the prospect of taking his full length in her mouth again and to give him the full attention he deserves this time.

Vegeta cants his hips forward ever so slightly, pushing his cock toward Bulma’s lips. He’d only received a small taste of what she can do, and more than once today his cock has begged for more. And her words of encouragement are no small help, either. 

Bulma’s tongue darts out with an experimental lick that causes Vegeta’s cock to jump. She stares up at him as she takes his head into her mouth fully, lapping and sucking gently until he can’t stand it anymore. 

With each and every suck of Bulma’s perfectly fuckable lips and delectable tongue around his cock, Vegeta realizes he never wants this to end. He doesn’t know why he deprived himself of this sensation for so long. The pleasure pools in his belly and he loses the ability for rational thought.

An involuntary thrust of his hips pushes his cock further inside, but Bulma has clearly anticipated it. Her slick tongue runs down his shaft, lubricating the way for her talented lips to follow all the way to the base. Still keeping her eyes firmly on his, she slides his cock out of her mouth but stops at the halfway point, where she seals her mouth around his cock and sucks.

It takes his breath away. 

Before he can say anything, Bulma makes a ring of her thumb and index finger around his cock and slides it up and down the shaft in time with her bobbing head. She can feel him hitting the back of her throat with every pump, his cock hardening even more than she thought was possible. 

Vegeta thrusts into her mouth, lost in the sparks of pleasure that jolt him every time she swallows around him. His release builds, tightening his balls and forcing his rhythm into erratic disarray. All he wants is to lose himself to Bulma’s control.

But then, agonizingly, Bulma pulls off of him with a final flourish of her tongue. 

“We’ll save the rest for later,” she whispers in his ear when she rises to stand on her tiptoes. “Wouldn’t want you to get too excited now, would we?”

“Bulma, please,” Vegeta groans. “Too late for that. Please let me…”

“Are you begging me?” Bulma interrupts, her tone taking a darker turn. “Because that is _fucking hot.”_

_“Please.”_

“Please, what?” Bulma demands. She will show him no mercy, not until he shows her he deserves it. 

Vegeta bares his teeth at her. “Don’t stop.” His hand catches hers and guides it back to his unfulfilled cock. 

Bulma doesn’t break eye contact as she grabs hold of him and squeezes with all her might, drawing a long, shivering breath out of him as she pumps his cock from the base upward. His hand moves with hers in long, even strokes. She flicks her thumb over the head when she reaches it, spreading the tiny bead of precum and revelling in the way his eyelashes flutter because of it. 

She watches intently for every little nuance in his changing expression; a fleet of emotion dances across his face before scattering to the wind, but lust is evident in every angle of his features.

Vegeta’s face softens for just a moment like a confession, but just as she is about to give in to his advances, the doorbell rings. 

“Ah, fuck,” Vegeta groans, the tenderness vanished from his eyes as he throws his head back against the wall in frustration. “Why now?” 

\---

“You seem quiet,” Bulma notes as she stuffs a sweet ‘n’ sour meatball in her mouth in entirely unladylike fashion. 

Vegeta eyes her, raising his chow mein-laden chopsticks pointedly. “I’m hungry,” he says once he swallows. 

“We could watch a movie,” Bulma suggests while licking the sauce off her fingers. “Have a snuggle on the couch. Or we could just talk.”

“You know I hate talking,” Vegeta mutters into his final bite of chow mein. He moves on to the lemon chicken next. “But I guess we should discuss some things.” 

Bulma props her head up in her hand, elbow on the table. “Like what?” 

Vegeta keeps his attention on his chopsticks. “If we’re going to be sleeping together-” 

“I guess we’ve made it complicated,” Bulma admits. “I like you, Vegeta. I really do. It’s the commitment-” 

“I’m sorry,” Vegeta blurts out. 

Bulma furrows her brow. “For…?” 

“I’m not the person you envision yourself with. You’re in an entirely different league, and I might not have thought so ten years ago, but that doesn’t make it any less true.” 

“Vegeta,” Bulma says softly. “I’ve already dated and broken up with the person I envisioned myself with. Sometimes life takes us in directions we never expected, and that’s okay.” 

Vegeta furrows his brow. “Who?” 

Bulma laughs like he’s just told a hilarious joke. “Oh, didn’t you know? Yamcha and I dated for like ten years.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/A084GEX) if you feel like supporting this writing habit of mine and my [patreon](https://www.patreon.com/jadefyre) if you feel like seeing goodies (like this chapter!) ahead of time :)
> 
> And if you can't support that way, you know I love your comments!! Keep 'em coming!!


	8. O Brother, Where Art Thou?

Vegeta nearly does a spit take.   
“Yamcha?!?” he says incredulously around a mouthful of lemon chicken. 

“I seriously thought you knew,” Bulma replies, hand over her mouth and barely able to contain her laughter. “Have the guys told you nothing?” 

“I don’t care enough to listen to them talk about their personal lives.” He dabs his mouth with his napkin while trying to process this incredibly unsettling revelation.  
“ _Yamcha?_ Really? What did you even _see_ in him?” 

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I still consider him a very good friend,” Bulma reprimands. “He has his strengths. We just weren’t cut out to be together in the long run.” 

“Ten years,” Vegeta repeats her earlier words with a disbelieving shake of his head. Then he looks up sharply. “When did you break up?” 

“Not too long before you took ownership of the cafe, actually. He was finally coming to terms with it when you took over.” 

“Does he know about… us?” 

Bulma rubs the back of her neck and looks to the side. “Not… exactly,” she admits. “He knows you and I are close, but…” she trails off. “Nobody at the cafe _knows _, and I haven’t told Chichi about… this, either.” She gestures at the air between them. “Whatever this is.”__

__“Krillin seemed to know something was up. Kakarot, too.”_ _

__“I mean, they’re not _blind_ , right? You might think you come off all stoic and emotionless, but you’re kind of easy to read.” _ _

__“Am I.”_ _

__Bulma leans in conspiratorially. “Yeah. Like, for instance, right now you can’t wait for me to finish my dinner so you can take me back to bed and ravish me, isn’t that right?”_ _

__Vegeta chokes at the implication. “Don’t change the subject, woman. I thought we had things to talk about.”_ _

__“Well, we can always talk about them _after_ , right?” _ _

__\---_ _

__“So,” Bulma says, rolling over to face Vegeta. Her face, tinted red with a slight sheen, is pressed against her pillow, and her hair sticks to her forehead in haphazard patterns._ _

__Vegeta thinks that she’s incredibly beautiful from this angle. “So,” he replies._ _

__“I’ve decided that we should probably go on another date if we’re going to carry on like this.”_ _

__“You think so, huh?” Vegeta says, reaching out to push back her hair from her eyes. It’s probably just the post-coital bliss, but his heart skips a beat just looking at her._ _

__“Mhm,” she says, scooting closer to him and snuggling the blankets up to her neck. “I know we’re both busy, but we see each other often enough. We can make time, right? Even if it has to be only late night coffee.”_ _

__“So you’re saying we _should_ date, then?” _ _

__Bulma is silent for a moment. “Casually. No commitments.”_ _

__“Right.” For someone who can’t stand being tied down, Vegeta is sure disappointed at the idea of merely being friends with benefits. His past self would have loved this set-up. He yawns. “Well, I’m still feeling the effects of our last all-nighter, so maybe we can do regular-time coffee somewhere that isn’t the Z Cafe.” He drapes his arm around Bulma’s middle and pulls her naked body flush with his, nuzzling into her neck. “Now c’mere.”_ _

__\---_ _

__Bulma is still sound asleep when Vegeta slides silently out of bed the next morning. He gazes down at her face fondly before fumbling around in the dark for his work clothes, careful not to wake her._ _

__He sneaks around the kitchen, preparing breakfast to go and gathering his keys, wallet, and phone. With each noise he makes he cringes, hoping not to wake her up. She looked too damn beautiful to disturb._ _

__Bulma appears at his bedroom doorway just as Vegeta is about to leave. “Have a good shift,” she mumbles sleepily, rubbing her eyes with her sleeve. _His_ sleeve. Of his shirt._ _

__Vegeta’s breath catches in his throat when he realizes that she is indeed wearing one of his shirts. It’s way too big on her, its hem dipping down well below her hips, and it’s fucking _sexy._ And now he’s going to be thinking about her all day _again_ … he’s not sure how he’s going to get any work done. Maybe it’ll have to be an office day. _ _

__A locked-door office day.  
“Thanks,” he manages to say once his brain returns to earth. “Will I see you after?” _ _

__“Maybe,” she smiles, leaning against the doorframe._ _

__\---_ _

__Vegeta’s cell rings just as he unlocks the door to the shop. Call display says that it’s Raditz, so he answers on the second ring._ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__“Hey, man. I hope I didn’t wake you.”_ _

__“I’m on opening shift.”_ _

__“Oh, good. Listen, man, I have to ask another favor of you.”_ _

__Vegeta lifts an eyebrow as he steps inside and locks the door behind him. He knew Raditz wouldn’t be asking for another favor this soon if he didn’t really need it, but he didn’t want this to become a regular thing. “What is it?”_ _

__“Letta’s been after me a lot lately about how much fun she had with you and that Bulma chick. She wants to know if she can hang out with her at the lab again sometime. She was telling me everything that she learned and it sounds like she had a real good time. Do you think it would be possible to set something like that up?”_ _

__For once in his life, Vegeta is pleasantly surprised at his former comrade. “Oh,” he says while still trying to process the question. “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”_ _

__“Oh, good. Sorry to call you so early, but it’s the only time I can get any privacy on the phone without little ears overhearing, ya know?”_ _

__“She’s a sneaky one, that girl of yours. Takes after her father.”_ _

__“More than you realize,” Raditz chuckles. Something in his tone sounds wistful, but Raditz always was the sentimental one._ _

__Vegeta unlocks his office begins preparing the cash-in for the day when he hears a key turning in the back door._ _

__“Vegeta?” Goku calls out._ _

__“I’m in here,” Vegeta replies, nudging the office door back open with his foot._ _

__“I guess I should let you go, huh?” Raditz says. “I’ll be in touch. Can I call you later? Letta’s bedtime is 9 so I can call around 10.”_ _

__Goku pops his head into the office. “You’re doing cash-in? Oh, you’re on the phone, sorry.”_ _

__“I’ll be right out, Kakarot,” Vegeta informs him before turning his attention back to the phone conversation. “And I’ll talk to you at ten.”_ _

__Vegeta presses the end call button just as Raditz asks, “Wait, did you just say ‘Kakarot?’”_ _

__\---_ _

__“Krillin, pay attention,” Goku whispers. He nudges his friend, who’s too busy staring at Eighteen to notice the customers approaching the counter._ _

__Krillin snaps back to reality and blushes. “Ah, yeah, sorry,” he says before turning on his customer service voice to address the newcomers. “Welcome to the Z Cafe, what can I get for you today?”_ _

__Goku turns his attention back to the drinks on bar. It’s Eighteen’s first day learning how to make drinks. Turns out, she’s a natural.  
“Okay, if you pour it _just_ a bit quicker, then you’ll see the foam rising back to the top and it’ll create the latte art you’re looking for.” _ _

__Eighteen steams another pitcher of milk while Goku pours the shots for the next latte on the bar. “So the speed makes the foam rise back to the top,” she states, taking the cup from Goku once she’s finished steaming.  
“Yeah, you got it!” Goku says, nodding enthusiastically.   
Her next pour is nearly perfect; the rosetta’s leaves are slightly uneven, and she spills the foam over the top by accident, but it looks good. _ _

__Vegeta walks out of his office at the same moment._ _

__“Look, she’s a natural!” Goku calls out, waving his boss over to see her progress._ _

__Vegeta can’t help but scowl a little. _She’s taken to it phenomenally. She_ is _a natural. Dammit._  
“Keep working at it,” he said with a simple nod toward the spilling foam. _ _

__Eighteen nods curtly back at him, the expression on her face unchanged._ _

__Goku catches the exchange and smiles at Eighteen. “It took Vegeta weeks to get the consistency right,” he confides._ _

__Eighteen smirks. “Good.”_ _

__Krillin slides two cups onto the bar and grins at Eighteen. “Dry cappuccino and a mocha, extra whip.”_ _

__“Ooh,” Goku says. “Cappuccinos are fun. Now we get to put those foaming skills into overdrive!”_ _

__\---_ _

__“I can’t believe how Eighteen took to the bar,” Goku says when he stops by Vegeta’s office later that day during the quiet period._ _

__“Neither can I,” Vegeta grunts, biting aggressively into his apple. “It feels like she’s done this before.”_ _

__“Are you suggesting she has some secret cafe experience she didn’t mention in her interview for a customer service job _at a cafe?_ ” Goku asks. _ _

__“She could have a variety of reasons for not mentioning it.”_ _

__“I think you’re just upset because she’s better at it than you were.”_ _

__“Thin ice, Kakarot.”_ _

__Goku raises his hands placatingly. “I’m just saying,” he chuckles. “She’s giving you a run for your money.”_ _

__Once Goku is done stomping all over Vegeta’s pride, they get down to business. Now that they’ve both healed from the _incident_ , and now that they’re on their way to being properly staffed, it’s time to start thinking about the latte art competitions they used to talk about. _ _

__“I was thinking you, me, and Piccolo would be our best bet to represent the cafe,” Goku says while pointing at the webpage he opened. “Although if Eighteen continues the way she is, she’ll be a strong addition to our team as well. Or we can enter individually.”_ _

__“Individually? Now I’m intrigued,” Vegeta says, leaning forward. “If we enter solo, I’ll kick your ass.”_ _

__Goku tilts his head forward and grins. “Throwing down the gauntlet, eh? Challenge accepted.”_ _

__Once Goku steps back out into the cafe, Vegeta returns to his paperwork._ _

__Well, shit. He’d better get to practicing._ _

__\---_ _

__“Aren’t they adorable?” Goku asks, watching Eighteen and Krillin leave the cafe together._ _

__Krillin opens the door for the lady, who rewards him with a tiny half-smile. It’s better than anything Vegeta has seen her give Krillin in terms of acknowledgement all day._ _

__“Oh, yeah, total ladykiller right there,” Yamcha chuckles. “That woman could eat him for breakfast. _Would_ eat him for breakfast.” _ _

__“Or fit him in her pocket,” Tien says, elbows-deep in dishwater. “She could stomp on him and he’d just say ‘thank you.’”_ _

__“Well, _I’m_ going to throw up,” Vegeta mutters. “It’s sickening watching him follow her around like a lost puppy.” _ _

__“Uh-huh,” Goku says. “Like you’ve never been in the same position.”_ _

__Vegeta whirls around and points an angry finger at Goku. “I would never lower myself to such undignified behavior. He’s practically drooling over her and it’s affecting his work.”_ _

__“Someone sounds defensive,” Tien notes, drying his hands on a towel. “I think we can all guess who the special lady in _your_ life is.” _ _

__Vegeta can’t help but glance at Yamcha, who scowls back at him from his spot by the condiment stand, which is still in disarray despite him having been there for at least the last five minutes. He can’t remember ever discussing his love life in front of the long-haired barista, but after the recent revelation by Bulma, he can’t say that he regrets the lack of disclosure._ _

__“My private life is none of your concern,” he says simply, turning back to the other baristas. “But we are all adults, here, and I expect you will act as such.”  
Vegeta watches Yamcha stiffen at those final words, which are definitely aimed in his direction. Suddenly, he has a list of tasks he really needs to do. In the back. _ _

__Which suits Vegeta just fine._ _

__\---_ _

__Bulma waits for him outside when he leaves for his shift later that day._ _

__“I got you something,” she says, handing him a drugstore bag with a red box inside._ _

__Vegeta takes the bag and peeks inside before closing it abruptly. “Condoms?” He whispers harshly, flushing with embarrassment. “I thought you said you were on birth control.”_ _

__“I am,” Bulma shrugs. “But we probably shouldn’t play with fire right now, ya know? Anyway, I was thinking that you and I should watch a movie at the Capsule Corp theater. Just you and I, whole room to ourselves…”_ _

__While the idea does sound rather tempting, Vegeta has an appointment to keep. Speaking of which…  
“I don’t think I can tonight. I have a phone appointment kinda late. And on that note, Raditz called this morning.” _ _

__“Oh? What’d he want? You on babysitting duty again?”_ _

__“Not quite,” Vegeta says, unlocking the passenger side door for Bulma to get in. “But it does involve Letta. And you.”_ _

__“Me?”_ _

__“Yeah,” he says as he gets in on his side. “The brat really likes you. Raditz says she wants to come spend a day at your lab again.”_ _

__“Well, I’m flattered,” Bulma chuckles. “I’ll see what I can do.”_ _

__Vegeta looks over at her, his face unreadable for a moment. “I never thought you’d be the type to be good with kids.”_ _

__“Ha!” Bulma startles him with the sharp laugh. “I’m not usually, to be honest. I actually don’t like them all that much. Can’t relate to ‘em. But she’s something else. She’ll be a brilliant scientist one day.”_ _

__Vegeta can’t help but agree._ _

__\---_ _

__When Vegeta checks his phone upon arriving home, he sees three missed calls from Raditz. It’s not even 7:30 pm._ _

__It must be important._ _

__Raditz picks up on the first ring when Vegeta calls him back._ _

__“Earlier, just before you hung up, did you say ‘Kakarot?’” he asks without even a hello._ _

__“Uh, yeah? He’s the assistant manager at the cafe,” Vegeta says, furrowing his brow. “You know, the one that got kidnapped by Frieza’s men?”  
Vegeta fails to see how that relates to the Letta situation. _ _

__“I’ve been doing some research lately,” Raditz says. “I was wondering why it sounded so familiar.”_ _

__“Get to the point.”_ _

__“I’ve been looking into my family tree. You know that I was separated from my parents when I was younger, right?”_ _

__“The point, Raditz.”_ _

__“Turns out they had another kid after me, not too long before the… uh, the _accident_. His name was Kakarot.” _ _

__“You’re saying that I employ your long-lost brother?”_ _

__“Only one way to be sure,” Raditz says with a shrug. “You gotta let me meet him.”_ _

__Vegeta sighs. “You’re asking a lot of favors of me, lately. Just because you and I fought together back in the day doesn’t make us friends.”_ _

__“I know, I know,” Raditz says. “But you’d want to know, too, right? What if _you_ had a brother that suddenly turned up in your life?” _ _

__Vegeta rests his fingers on the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Are we done?”_ _

__“Oh yeah, I wanted to ask about… the thing. For Letta,” Raditz’ voice drops to a whisper. “Can we do it?”_ _

__“Luckily for you, yes,” Vegeta says. “I’ll call you once the arrangements are made.”_ _

__“Shit, man, really? Thank you! You’re a bro.” With that, Raditz quickly hits the _end call_ button before Vegeta can ream him out for the familiarity. _ _

__Vegeta, on the other hand, glares at the screen of his phone. _Rude,_ he thinks. They might not be related, but it is true that Raditz might be the closest thing Vegeta ever had to a brother. And now Kakarot might usurp his position in Raditz’ life? _ _

__Not that it matters. Not that he ever _mattered.__ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **August 31, 2018** : _Minor updates to fix a plot hole._
> 
> As always, you guys rock, thank you for all of your excellent comments! You make my day!


	9. New Knowledge

“Chichi is leaving the suit color selection up to _you?_ ” Krillin asks incredulously. “She’s braver than I ever gave her credit for.” 

Yamcha snickers. “Guess she trusts you not to choose orange.” 

Goku nearly drops his barcloth and his eyes widen. “Wait, I can’t choose orange?” 

“Good god, man, no.” Yamcha cringes dramatically. “ _Especially_ not the shade your _gi_ is in.” 

“But it’s my favorite color.” 

“I know, buddy,” Krillin says with a consoling pat on the arm. “But you gotta make the future missus a happy lady, and sometimes that means not wearing orange to your wedding.” 

“What am I supposed to wear, then?” 

“Can’t go wrong with a white suit,” Tien suggests. 

“Bulma knows a place,” Vegeta interjects suddenly. “She had me go there to get my tux fitted for that gala last year.” 

“Wait, really? You went along with that?” Krillin asks. 

“Yes. I stick to my promises when I make them.” Vegeta crosses his arms defensively.

The conversation flows from talk of wedding colors to actual wedding dates and plans. Unfortunately for Vegeta, it seems that Goku and Chichi know half the population of West City. The ceremony alone will have at least three hundred seats (four hundred for good measure, according to Goku), but the reception will be something else entirely. 

“Bulma declared that no friend of hers is going to have a lacklustre wedding, so I guess she’s opening up one of the Capsule Corp buildings for the reception. That place is massive.” 

“I hope you have more than just me on security,” Vegeta scoffs. “This is getting out of hand.” 

“Piccolo volunteered to help, too.” 

“Great.” Vegeta rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Somebody go check on the kid, would ya?” he says, pointing toward the kitchen where they set up Seventeen preparing the next round of baked goods. 

The door to the cafe opens just as Goku heads back to do as he’s told, and in walks Raditz, hands on his hips. 

He squints and looks around at the patrons before catching sight of Vegeta. With three long strides, he’s in front of the cash register. 

“What are you doing here?” Vegeta hisses. 

“Just thought I’d grab a latte,” Raditz grins the way he always used to when he was about to do something stupid. “So, is Kakarot working today?” 

“Keep your voice down!” Vegeta berates him. “I told you I’d set this up. Now is not a good time.” 

“Oh? Why’s that?” 

“Because he’s trying to work, dipshit,” Vegeta mutters. 

Clearly, Raditz is in one of those moods where he thinks he can take on the world. Vegeta always used to be the one to temper him in the past, but now he did what he liked, unrestrained.   
Which apparently got him into situations such as raising a child on his own, getting his ass kicked by some unknown entity that Vegeta really wanted nothing to do with, and striding into this cafe in broad daylight demanding to see the person he thinks is his long lost baby brother. 

“Maybe if you thought before you acted for once in your life, you’d see the bigger picture.”

Raditz throws his head back with laughter, his unruly mane swinging from side to side. “Ah, Vegeta, you haven’t changed a bit, you know that? Not a single bit. Well, tell him I said hi. And I’ll be waiting.” 

The savage look in his eye as he states the last sentence unnerves Vegeta to the core.

\--- 

“What’s wrong?” 

Vegeta shakes his head to clear his daydream and turns to Bulma. “What did you say?”

“I said, what’s wrong? Something’s bothering you.” 

“It’s nothing,” Vegeta sighs. _Nothing I want to bother you with, anyway._

Bulma squeezes his arm supportively. “Doesn’t sound like nothing. But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” 

This is a new thing that Vegeta will have to get accustomed to: not being the only person who cares about how he’s feeling. He hopes that he doesn’t have to regularly bare his soul to the woman, because _that_ is uncharted territory he refuses to enter, especially while they’re not on official terms. 

 

Having effectively cancelled the need for a ten pm phone call, Vegeta texted Bulma shortly after his conversation with Raditz asking if she was still up for a movie. 

_Always :)_ , she had replied. 

And so here they sit, side by side and arms barely brushing, watching some film that hasn’t even left regular cinemas yet. But Vegeta’s mind can’t stay focused on the movie. Something about the earlier interaction with Raditz still has him on edge. 

While not entirely unlike the way Vegeta remembers him, his demeanor back at the cafe strikes a dissonant chord with the way he’s been acting lately. But Raditz isn’t a priority for him anymore. 

_At least he wasn’t, not until he brought Kakarot into this._

\---

And despite Bulma’s invitation, Vegeta goes to bed alone that night. 

His phone buzzes with a text from Goku at quarter to eleven. 

_The competition is in two months. Think you’re ready to go head to head with the West City champion?_

Vegeta sniffs with derision. He’s going to be the best damn latte-art maker this city… no, this _state_ has ever seen. 

_I was born ready, Kakarot._

A sudden thought seizes him. He thinks twice before sending the next text message, but he assesses the risk to be minimal.

_Do you have any siblings, by chance?_

Goku responds within moments, accompanied by the thinking emote.

_Can’t say that I do. Why?_

Vegeta stares at the ceiling, lost in thought. Goku claimed once that he was adopted when he was very young. Was he also involved in the accident that killed his parents? 

For someone that claims not to care, Vegeta finds himself intrigued by the whole scene as it unfolds in slow motion around him. It is a mystery and for once it doesn’t have to be him that solves it. 

He finds himself wondering how Goku will react to all of this. 

\---

“You seem quiet,” Goku notes the next morning. 

Vegeta stands at the bar, intently pouring his perfected foam into a beautifully-poured shot of espresso. “Concentrating.” 

“I mean besides that. You barely said two words to me when I got here.”

“That’s normal.” 

“Is it something I did?” 

Vegeta finishes pouring the final accents to the latte art and looks up at Goku. “No,” he says, moving onto the next drink. 

“Oh. Well, what is it, then?”

Vegeta growls in annoyance at the way Goku keeps pressing him. “Nothing that’s any concern of yours,” he snaps. _Lie._ “Just mind your own business, would you?” 

Goku crosses his arms in a rare display of defiance. The good-natured tone of his voice drops and is replaced by a blunt, matter-of-fact one: “You’ve been like this since yesterday afternoon. What gives? Is it sibling drama? Is that why you asked if I had any?” 

Vegeta slams the latte he’s holding down on the counter, spilling its contents everywhere. His poor night’s sleep combined with the stress of Raditz storming back into his life do _not_ make a good mix. “I said stay out of it.” 

He stares intently at Goku, daring him to bring it up again. 

The other man stares back, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Finally, he stands down. “Maybe you should work off the floor today,” he suggests frostily. “You’re going to bring everyone down.” 

Vegeta bares his teeth and hisses, “Fine. I clearly won’t find any peace out here anyway.”   
He retreats to his office when Tien arrives for the mid-morning shift.

With the door closed, he’s free to be frustrated in peace. He goes over the numbers of the past few weeks, making notes of what they’re low on and putting them on the list of items to order. Working on such mundane tasks gives his brain some time to decompress. By the time late afternoon rolls around, the nagging sensation he’d been experiencing becomes a fully formed thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **September 7, 2018** _Updated to comply with previous changes_
> 
> Comments, as always, are appreciated.


	10. There is Another...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **September 19, 2018** : Updated to comply with previous edits
> 
> Big thanks to [Ann_Ominous](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann_Ominous/pseuds/Ann_Ominous) and [LadyCressa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCressa) for the beta read.

Vegeta gives the punching bag his best right hook. The _smack_ of his hands against the solid resistance is incredibly satisfying, and he can feel the aggression pouring through his body and out his fists.   
Sweat drips down into his headband and dampens his black hair so much the spikes start to droop.   
He takes a step back to stretch out his neck and shoulder muscles. They still feel almost unbearably tight most mornings. Today even more so, and he knows he has to get back into routine. He _has_ been neglecting the gym lately. 

This time, he’s invited Raditz along. He’s taken to training in the Capsule Corp gym, so Vegeta is certain that the other Saiyan won’t start anything. He just wants him here to talk while they beat the shit out of each other, just like the old days. 

Raditz marches in at least fifteen minutes beyond the designated meeting time. “So, told Kakarot about me yet?” he says to announce his presence. 

“Keep it down,” Vegeta reprimands him, glancing at the few others who occupy the floor. He leads his sparring partner to the ring and holds the rope out for him, only to let it go as Raditz steps through to _whap_ against his back. 

“Son of a bitch,” Raditz grunts. “You’re gonna pay for that, you little shit.” 

Vegeta drops into a stance and waits for the larger man to make the first move. Raditz is quicker than Vegeta gives him credit for, though, and the first swing makes contact with Vegeta’s left shoulder just as he attempts to dodge.

“I haven’t told him, no,” Vegeta answers his earlier question while bobbing and weaving out of the way of Raditz’s flurry of attacks. “In fact, I’m not entirely certain he’ll enjoy having an imbecile for a brother.”

“Cuts me deep, Prince of mine,” Raditz chuckles darkly. He attempts to jump back and out of the way of Vegeta’s whirlwind kick, but it connects directly to his stomach and he doubles over when it knocks the wind out of him. 

“No wonder you came home looking so beat up that day,” Vegeta sneers, swinging for the jaw. “You can’t even fend me off and I’ve been out of practice for the last several months.” 

Raditz wipes off the blood from his split lip and bares his teeth. “There were more of them at the time,” he says, squaring his feet and winding up for another swing. He feints to the left and then catches Vegeta square on the right temple. 

“You know I normally wouldn’t ask,” Vegeta says.

“But…?” 

“ _But_ , given the fact that you’ve got offspring to care for, I have to know what the fuck you were doing last week when you were away.” 

Raditz rubs his jaw where Vegeta decked him earlier and straightens up. “You know I keep my finger on the pulse of the underworld,” he says vaguely. “There was some shit to clean up. That’s all.” He lunges at Vegeta, fists swinging.

“Thought you got out of the business after-- ow, fuck. That _hurt_ , asshole.” 

“Heh. Good.” 

Vegeta glares at his sparring partner. 

“Seems you never _really_ got out of the business, after all,” Raditz says. “You’ve still got a few years of fight left in you after all.” 

“I tend to channel it in more constructive ways.” 

Though he puts up a valiant effort, Vegeta still isn’t up to snuff. Raditz pins him and holds for a count of three before stepping back and customarily offering his hand to the loser.

Vegeta, customarily, swats it aside and stands up on his own. “What are you going to do about Letta when your ‘finger on the pulse’ turns into a gun against your head in some back alley? She gonna have to hear about her daddy’s brains being blown out on the evening news?” 

Raditz looks away. “Come on. You know it’ll barely be a line on the ticker.” 

Vegeta sighs. “I’ll set up a meeting with Kakarot. But you need to promise me something.” 

“What’s that?”

“Don’t fuck it up.” 

\---

Vegeta lays on his stomach as directed, a towel the only thing covering his modesty.

Bulma lays on a bed adjacent to him, face tucked into the massage chair’s pillow. “Just relax, Vegeta. The masseuse will be here any moment.”

“I told you before, woman, I don’t do relaxing _or_ romantic. I think this counts as an attempt at both.” 

“It’s deep tissue, and you need it. Stop complaining.” 

The aroma of lavender fills the air, wafting from an essential oil diffuser in the corner. Gentle sounds of the ocean crashing on the seashore emanate from speakers mounted on the wall. 

Their masseuses enter the room after a gentle knock. Vegeta’s is a registered massage therapist specializing in injuries like his. She had come highly recommended to Bulma by a good friend of hers, so Bulma immediately made a dual appointment, “Because why should you get all the pampering?” 

Everything about the spa made Vegeta uncomfortable. From the moment he stepped inside, he resisted the relaxing atmosphere, refusing to let go of his tension as he knew he was meant to do. They had given him a robe and ridiculous slippers, a glass of cucumber-infused water, and a hot towel. Then they led him into a room where he was to strip naked, don the robe, and wait for Bulma. 

The only good part about the experience was the little peek she had given him by opening her robe for his eyes only once they were alone. 

Now, the masseuse directs him to keep his arms at his side and to breathe deeply. 

“You’re very tense,” she says as she assesses his body with a professional eye. “Let’s get that sorted, shall we?”

“Guess so,” Vegeta mutters. He feels ridiculous with his face smushed into the hole in the pillow. Honestly, though, he can’t help but feel relaxation taking hold of him.   
As the masseuse gets to work on his aching muscles, he finds himself almost falling asleep.

“Vegeta,” Bulma whispers in his ear. 

“Mmwha?” he says, eyes blinking open as he turns to face her. 

Her bright blue eyes shine even in the dimly lit room and she giggles. “Wake up sleepy, we’re all done.” 

“Already?” 

“Yep. Put your robe on and go get changed. We have dinner plans.”

Vegeta rubs the sore spot on his jaw once she leaves the room. Raditz really did a number on him yesterday. It already has the beginnings of a very large bruise radiating back along his jawbone. 

Once he’s fully dressed back in his jeans and wife-beater, he emerges to find Bulma setting another appointment for them next week. 

“Where we going for dinner?” he asks once she finishes. 

“I have reservations at that new Mexican place down on Third Ave. I hope you like spicy food.” 

Vegeta does, in fact, love spicy food, but he’s not sure how well it’s going to mix with his recent anxiety. He feels like he’s being dragged along on a carnival ride today and he can’t get off. 

Later, at dinner, Vegeta pushes his food around the plate while Bulma regales him with a tale of her latest experiment gone wrong. 

“Speaking of which,” Bulma says after swallowing a bite. “Once I get the lab repaired from that disaster, I should be able to clear a day for Letta to come by. It’ll be like a ‘bring your sort-of-boyfriend’s friend’s kid to work day’ sort of thing.” 

“Oh, so I’m your ‘sort-of-boyfriend’ now?” 

Bulma smiles enigmatically. “Sure.” 

“I see. -How long do you think that’ll take? Raditz has really been on my ass about this.” 

Bulma chuckles. “No more than a week. We’re taking this opportunity to conduct some field tests while the lab is out of commission.” 

“What are you testing?” 

“The new grav room, now with improved explosion shielding. I don’t suppose you’d like to come help us test it?” Bulma says with a cheeky grin. 

“You’ve got my interest.” Vegeta leans forward. “But you’ll have to create fire resistant clothing to go with it.” 

Bulma smirks. “Challenge accepted.” 

\---

“Kakarot, I need a word with you.” 

Goku places the wet cloth back in its bucket and dries his hands. “Am I in trouble?”

“No.” 

He approaches the office with uncertainty. Vegeta’s expression is a hard one to read; he always looks angry, and today he looks angry and focused. Not always a great combination for Goku. 

Once he’s stepped inside and the door is closed, he leans against the doorframe in as relaxed a manner as possible. “What’s up?” 

“The man who helped me free you and Bulma, do you remember him?” 

Goku shakes his head. “Only vaguely. I don’t remember a lot from that night, to be honest.” 

“His name is Raditz. Does that sound familiar to you?”

“Should it?” 

“He claims that you’re his long lost brother.” 

Goku blinks. “He what?” 

“You’re adopted, aren’t you?” Vegeta asks. 

“Well yeah, but,” Goku starts. Then it’s like the light goes on in his brain. “Oh my god, I might have a brother I never knew about? I never even thought to look.” He drags his hand down his face and sighs. “ _What_.” 

“He wants to meet you,” Vegeta says, crossing his arms. “I personally think you should consider limiting your time with him.” 

“Why?” Goku pushes off the door frame and stands at his full height. “If he saved my life, and he’s my _brother_ , he can’t be that bad.” 

Vegeta leans forward and steeples his fingers. “He and I share a similar past, Kakarot. He’s... a bit of a loose cannon.” 

Goku shrugs. “Okay, and…?” 

Vegeta shakes his head. “Something feels off about this. He’s been acting more reckless than usual even though he has a daughter to worry about. You can decide what you want to do, but this is fair warning.” 

“Wait, I have a _niece_ too?” 

Vegeta purses his lips and nods. “Yep.” 

Goku contemplates for a moment and then nods once. “I want to meet them.” 

Vegeta nods back and follows him out onto the floor. 

\---

Goku tugs at the hoodie that hides his spiky hair and groans. It’s two sizes too small -- built for Vegeta’s body, not his -- and too short. His midriff shows, it’s cold outside, and he’s feeling really uncomfortable about all of this. “This feels shady. Couldn’t we have met after-hours at the cafe?” 

Vegeta shrugs. “This is how we operate.” He leads Goku to the designated meeting area. It’s the same one, in fact, that he and Raditz met at all those months ago when Vegeta was investigating what the hell was happening with the cafe. 

Raditz hops down from the concrete wall and leans against it as they approach. A lit cigarette droops from his mouth, and ash scatters on the ground as the burnt end crumbles. The dim light from a street lamp on the other side illuminates his profile, and to Vegeta, he exudes a certain movie-star quality. 

But he knows it’s only part of his cool-guy persona. He’d be wearing sunglasses if it weren’t so wildly impractical, but it seems he’s settled on a leather jacket. Figures. 

“I thought you kicked that habit ages ago,” Vegeta says, wrinkling his nose. 

Raditz crushes the cigarette against the concrete and throws the butt into a nearby ashtray. “Only do it when I need it.” He pushes off the wall and stands up to his full height, towering over even Goku. 

Vegeta keeps his distance and lets the two men introduce themselves.

“Hi,” Goku says, pulling off the hood with his left hand and offering his right to shake. “I’m Goku.” 

Raditz looks him up and down, a frown casting his face into shadow. “You look just like him.”

“Who?” 

“Our father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a self-plug: links to my [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/A084GEX) and [patreon](https://www.patreon.com/jadefyre) (where you'll find Chapter 11 and soon chapter 12 as well!)
> 
> Also the title is a star wars reference because apparently my loose naming conventions don't exist anymore. Ayy! 
> 
> Comments always appreciated!!


	11. Black Holes and Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **September 19, 2018** Minor updates
> 
> Shoutout to Ann_Ominous and LadyCressa for beta-reading. Thank you, my lovelies!

“You have his hair, his face,” Raditz says, reaching out to touch Goku’s cheek but thinking better of it. Then he does something that throws Vegeta for a loop: he crouches to the ground, covers his face with his hands, and sobs. 

Concerned, Goku crouches too, putting his hand on his newfound brother’s shoulder. 

Vegeta backs away, unnerved by the uncharacteristic show of emotion. Sensing they need some time alone, he retreats into the darkness. He decides to wait upon returning to the Mercedes. No sense leaving Goku out here all by himself once the family reunion is over. Knowing that it could take hours, Vegeta plugs in his earbuds and closes his eyes. 

\---

Vegeta startles awake when Goku raps two knuckles against the window. He bolts upright and pulls out his earbuds before unlocking the door. 

Raditz is nowhere in sight.

“I didn’t think you were going to wait for me,” Goku says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s _really_ late.” 

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” Vegeta shrugs. “Neither of us work.” 

“But still,” Goku says. “Why don’t we grab a bite to eat and then head home?” 

Vegeta’s stomach growls in response and he nods curtly. “Let’s go.” 

“A bite to eat” turns out to be a gas station muffin and coffee, which, Vegeta finds, is surprisingly good.   
“This is fucking delicious. Must be all the sugar,” he mutters and takes another sip of his french vanilla-flavored beverage. He can barely keep his eyes open. 

“Definitely,” Goku says in enthusiastic agreement, shoving another bite of blueberry muffin into his gaping maw. 

His appetite knows no bounds, and this will _definitely_ not be enough to satiate it. He rises from their spot in front of the Keno screen and wanders over to the sandwich selection. It’s sparse due to the late--or early--hour, but he selects an edible-looking turkey sandwich and approaches the cash register. 

“Can I get you anything else?” Goku calls over to Vegeta. “ I owe you big.” 

Vegeta eyes the sandwich and crinkles his nose in distaste. “I’m good,” he says, stealing another sip of this abomination of a coffee. It’s almost sacrilegious how much he’s enjoying it. 

“You sure? ‘Nother muffin maybe?” 

“There _was_ a cheese croissant in the case that looked good,” Vegeta concedes after deliberating for a moment. 

Goku returns to their spot and tosses the croissant on a napkin in front of Vegeta. 

They eat in awkward silence. 

It’s awkward for Vegeta because he’s burning with curiosity about what Goku and Raditz discussed, and awkward for Goku because he _clearly_ wants to share, but isn’t sure if he should. 

After Vegeta finishes his last bite of croissant and washes it down with the rest of his coffee, he abruptly stands. He feels Goku’s eyes on him as he throws the napkin and crumbs into the nearby trash can, where he pauses and pretends to browse the magazine rack next to it. 

“So,” Goku says casually, trying to gauge Vegeta’s interest.

Vegeta turns halfway toward him and raises an eyebrow, the only indication that he’s listening. 

“I have a brother, I guess.” 

“It would seem so,” Vegeta says. He picks up a motor vehicle magazine and flips through the pages. 

“He’s older than me, which makes sense. He said our parents were… there was…”   
Goku pauses, causing Vegeta to glance over to him. He furrows his brow and tries to figure out how to continue.

After agonizing seconds pass, Vegeta interjects quietly: “An accident?” 

“Yeah.” Goku takes a deep breath and heaves a dramatic sigh. He takes another bite of turkey sandwich and sets it aside. “He seemed… angry. At me.” 

“What for?”

“For not remembering them. For the fact that I exist when they gave him up.” 

“You were just a baby. You never had a say.” Vegeta’s statement of fact hangs out in the open, drenched in something that almost resembles pity. 

“I was almost old enough that I could have remembered, I guess.” Goku sighs. “But my grandpa--Gohan, the man who adopted me--he said that I had a head injury. That I didn’t know my own name after I woke up in the hospital. That’s what the social workers told him when they dropped me off at his house.” 

Vegeta regards Goku with a neutral expression. Inside, his gut twists. Here before him stands an example of when the system does well by a child. 

Raditz and even Vegeta himself were never so lucky. 

\---

“Thanks for the ride,” Goku says, his mouth quirking up in a smile as he hangs off the passenger door. “And also… for listening. I know you don’t really care, but thanks.” 

Vegeta simply nods once, thankful that the sky hasn’t brightened enough for Goku to see the conflicting emotions in his eyes.   
Once the door slams shut, he rubs his eyes. “Tch,” he mutters. Since when did his job description include ‘therapist’? 

The clock reads 5:30. He only got a few hours of sleep before Goku woke him up, and those hours weren’t spent in the most comfortable of positions. His bed feels especially inviting right about now. 

\---

Vegeta wakes up four hours later to a slew of text messages from Bulma, Goku, and Raditz. He’s going to need at least two cups of coffee before he deals with the latter two, so he sits up in bed and rubs the sleep from his eyes. 

He throws the blankets off and stretches, catching his reflection in the mirror. Dark bags sit under his eyes and make him think that maybe he should get some proper sleep, for once. 

The messages from Bulma ask if he wants to come over for breakfast, but they were sent an hour ago. Only minutes ago, she’d sent another: _Or you can sleep in, I’m not judging._  
Vegeta smiles at his phone and types back a reply. _Rough night. Still up for breakfast?_

It takes only seconds for Bulma to respond. _I suppose a girl can’t have enough bacon and eggs._

Vegeta’s stomach gurgles as it digests the last of the cheese croissant from earlier. Bacon and eggs sound really good after consuming the gas station’s poor excuse for pastries. He swings his feet around to the floor and takes a deep breath before standing up.

\---

Vegeta watches with morbid fascination as Bulma douses her sausages with fish sauce. “I still can’t get over your weird eating habits,” he mutters into his perfectly normal sausage dipped in HP sauce. 

Bulma sticks out her tongue in response and shoves half the sausage into her mouth before closing her lips around it and wiggling her eyebrows seductively. 

Vegeta rests his chin in his hand and raises an eyebrow. “You think you’re turning me on but you’re doing the exact opposite.” 

“I don’t think I am,” Bulma corrects. “I know I am.”

“Tch.” 

“You liiiike it.” She waggles her tongue along the length of the breakfast meat and winks. 

“Are you insinuating that I’m small?” 

Bulma leans in and grins mischievously. “Oh, far from it,” she says, reaching out to pat his lap under the table.

Vegeta nearly jumps out of his skin at the unexpected--but not undesired--contact.

“I don’t think I’ve slept enough to deal with this,” he splutters. Then he pauses. “But I could be coaxed.” 

Bulma tilts her head to the side. “My bedroom is that-a-way. Nobody’s home.” 

\---

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been inside of your house,” Vegeta purrs in Bulma’s ear. Her ass is tucked up against him and he has his arm around her, holding her close. 

Bulma shivers with delight. “No, I don’t think you have. First time for everything.” Her head rests on the pillow and she leans back to look up at Vegeta upside down. “You’re cute from this angle.” 

Vegeta, already flushed from their preceding activities, blushes even deeper. “So are you,” he mumbles before leaning down and kissing her nose, at which she giggles in delight.   
He can’t say that he hates the giant sap he becomes once he’s gotten off, but he definitely wishes that side of him wasn’t so ready to show itself. Even if Bulma _had_ proven that she could be trusted with his vulnerability. 

It was almost like they were a real couple. 

“So tell me,” Bulma says, closing her eyes and smiling. “Why did _you_ have a rough night?” 

“It’s not exactly pillow talk.” 

“Try me.” 

Vegeta lifts an eyebrow. “It involves Kakarot. And Raditz.” 

Bulma shifts and turns to face him. “What about them?” 

“Raditz claims that Kakarot is his long-lost brother, and last night we found out it’s true. I didn’t stick around for the tears, thank god.” 

Bulma’s eyes widen. “Goku has a _brother?_ ” 

“Unfortunately, that means we’ll be seeing more of Raditz.” 

“Isn’t he your friend?” 

Vegeta rolls his eyes dramatically. “Woman, I don’t have _friends._ ” 

“What am I then?” 

Vegeta pulls her even closer against his body and nuzzles his nose along her jawline, breathing in her scent. “You? Why, you’re my dirty little secret, of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obligatory [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/A084GEX) and [patreon](https://www.patreon.com/jadefyre) links! I also launched a tangentially related website called jadefyredraws.com so if you wanna go give it a follow (it's on tumblr!) and spread the word, guess who would be eternally grateful?
> 
> (spoiler alert? it me)


	12. Loose Cannon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **September 19, 2018** Updated  
>  Thanks LadyCressa for beta-reading <3

“So if you connect that wire to this piece right here, you’ll complete the circuit!” 

Letta stares wide-eyed as Bulma demonstrates, causing a nearby lamp to illuminate. “Wow,” she breathes. “I wanna try!”

“Make sure you don’t touch the metal parts,” Bulma warns before moving to allow Letta to have a go. “Otherwise it’ll zap you, and that won’t feel very good.” 

“Then my hair will get even crazier than it already is?” Letta asks, looking up with eyes sparkling. 

Bulma can’t help but laugh. “Yeah. Who told you that?”

“Daddy,” Letta says, sticking her tongue out and copying Bulma’s earlier steps. “He told me once that the reason his hair is so poofy is because he stuck a fork in an outlet when he was little. He says it’s impossible to manage, so I should make sure I don’t do the same.” 

Bulma glances over at Vegeta, who supervises with arms crossed from the corner. Her eyes reflect Letta’s glee, and her smile lights up her face in a different way than Vegeta has ever seen her before. 

“Well, your daddy sounds like he learned his lesson. It’s very important to practice safe handling procedures when handling anything in a lab or when you’re inventing something.” 

“What sorta things have you invented?” Letta asks. 

“Oh, all kinds. Most recently, I’ve been working on a gravity room.” 

“Like the one that blew up? Daddy and uncle Vegeta almost died,” Letta says matter-of-factly. 

Vegeta blinks rapidly. He’s not sure why he’s more taken aback: that Letta called him uncle or that she mentioned the ordeal from last year as if it were just another fact of life.

He looks over to see Bulma staring at him, mouth agape. “Y-yeah,” she says once she regains her composure. “But that explosion was caused by a very bad man who wanted to break the gravity room. So the new one will be much safer and won’t have the ability to explode like that. I hope.” 

Letta nods, accepting the explanation. She places the wire where Bulma did and laughs when the lamp lights up again. “I did it!” 

“You did!” Bulma says, grateful for the change in subject. “Why don’t I get some parts for you to take home and practice with. Just make sure that your daddy knows so he can keep an eye on you.”

Letta bounces excitedly. “That sounds awesome! After this, can we go in the flight simulator again?” 

“Of course,” Bulma chuckles. “But first, let me go talk to _uncle_ Vegeta for a few minutes. You take apart that circuitry and stack it neatly for me.” 

As Letta does as she’s told, Bulma makes her way around the lab counters to where Vegeta is standing. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I don’t know why I brought up the gravity room of all things.” 

“She doesn’t seem too traumatized by the whole thing,” Vegeta notes. “Looks like Raditz just tells her straight about things that happen and she just accepts it.”

“That’s good,” Bulma says, visibly relieved. “She’s clearly a curious kid, so I’m glad he’s taking the initiative to feed her hunger for knowledge.” 

“She’s smarter than him already.” 

“It isn’t easy raising a genius child,” Bulma says with a shrug. “Just ask my mom.” 

\---

“You do know your dad and I aren’t brothers, right?” Vegeta asks the rambunctious eight year old in his back seat. 

“Yeah, I know,” she says, clicking the window switch back and forth. “But he says to call you ‘uncle’ anyway because it’s polite.” 

“I see.” 

“Do you care if I call you uncle?” 

Vegeta smirks. “No.” 

“What if I called you auntie?” Letta asks, trying to hold the window down with her hand as she presses the button ro raise it. 

“Then I’d wonder who you were talking to,” Vegeta says, adjusting his rear view mirror so he can see what she’s doing. “Quit that, you’ll break it.” 

Letta releases the window but keeps moving it up and down with the switch. “What if I called Bulma ‘auntie?’ Would that mean you’d have to get married?” 

“Uh,” Vegeta answers lamely, wondering why she decided upon this line of questioning. “No. Aunties and uncles aren’t always married to each other,” he says once he recovers from that bombshell of a question. “She and I aren’t even dating.” 

“Daddy says it’s wrong to tell lies.” 

“Well, your _daddy_ should listen to his own advice,” Vegeta grouses, and drops the subject. 

Once they reach Letta’s street, she starts packing all of her circuit boards and wires back into the bag Bulma gave her. Vegeta accompanies her to the front door, and she runs inside with barely a greeting to her father to play in her room with her new toys. 

“I see you haven’t told her about uncle Kakarot yet,” Vegeta stage whispers once he hears her bedroom door shut from the back of the house. 

 

Raditz shrugs. “I’m still trying to process it myself,” he admits. “But Kakarot does want to meet her.” 

“She needs more normal people in her life.” 

“You sayin’ I’m not normal?” Raditz asks, mock-offended. He gestures at his unruly mane and the gun holstered at his side. “You sayin’ all this ain’t normal?” 

Vegeta raises an eyebrow. “You’re the farthest thing from normal that I can imagine.” 

Raditz’s face lights up with a cocksure grin. “That’s the way I like it, baby. You comin’ in for a beer?” 

“It’s three in the afternoon,” Vegeta says. Not that it ever stopped him in the past, but if he can lie to himself that he has some semblance of moral integrity, he’ll do it. 

“Well you know what they say,” Raditz says, ushering him inside anyway. “The early bird gets the worm.” 

“Worm? Isn’t that in tequila, not beer?” A confused Vegeta asks as he’s shown to a seat in the living room and handed a bottle with a colorful label. 

Raditz shrugs. “Might be, but it doesn’t matter. Bottoms up!” 

Vegeta examines the the beer in his hand. “Hm,” he says, impressed that Raditz bought craft beer. “Your tastes seem to be improving. You becoming a hipster or something?” 

Raditz clutches his heart. “I would never,” he says with a gasp. “Besides, I liked craft beer _before_ it was cool. And before it was cool to like things before it was cool. _And_ ,” he adds, putting up a finger and taking a long gulp to punctuate his statement, “that’s rich, coming from the guy who owns a coffee shop. Hipsters must make up at least half of your clientele.” 

“I call them as I see them,” Vegeta responds, popping the top off the bottle with a calloused thumb. 

Raditz’s hyper energy sets Vegeta on edge. He flits about the room like a hummingbird before finally settling on the armchair in the corner. Restlessness is usual for Raditz, but this is on another level entirely.   
“So Letta had fun,” he says, downing the last of his beer and getting up to retrieve another. It’s more of a question than a statement, but he’s clearly eager to keep Vegeta around for a while.   
He seems lonely. 

“You told her about the gravity room?” Vegeta’s question pierces the carefully-crafted atmosphere Raditz is trying to maintain. 

Raditz pauses and glances over his shoulder from the kitchen, the bottle opener in his hand only halfway finished with its job.  
“No secrets in this house,” he says with a shake of his head. 

Now _that_ is bullshit. 

\---

“Maybe you should stop there,” Vegeta says, reaching out to pluck Raditz’s fourth bottle from his hand the moment he sits down. “And tell me what’s going on.” 

Raditz shrugs. “Nothin’. Can’t a man day-drink in peace once in a while?” 

“Is it about Kakarot?” Vegeta asks. 

“Hey, man, keep your voice down,” Raditz scolds, but doesn’t heed his own advice. 

Vegeta narrows his eyes and leans forward. “You know I usually couldn’t care less, but if this is going to affect his performance at work, then I need to know. As his employer.”

“I know you care more than you let on,” Raditz chuckles. “Always have. You’d have killed me if I said anything before.” 

“Glad to know the beer has made you an honest man,” Vegeta grumbles. “But I need to know. His best interests are in my best interests right now.” 

Raditz looks down and a brief cloud passes over his face before his eyes brighten and he jumps to his feet. “I’m just… you know, I’m excited. It’s like this beacon of shining light from my forgotten past, or something.” 

“Never took you to be a drunken poet. But you’ve seen him before. I know I’ve talked about him before. Why now? What’s the sudden interest?” 

Raditz shrugs. “Sometimes your mind just _knows_ things.” 

Vegeta sets down the beer he’s been nursing--the first one Raditz handed him--and stands. “I should go. You and Letta need to talk, and I need to go for a run.” 

\---

Vegeta places the second earbud in his ear and presses play on his phone. His route will take him through the Capsule Corp grounds and onto the back road he used to take as a shortcut.   
The rhythm of the music sets his pace as he runs; hard bass lines and heavy drums crowd out every other thought in his mind. 

Except the ones that come clawing through the veil of screaming guitar solos, demanding to be heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit I started this fic a little bit directionless. I've nudged it to a path that contains actual Plot, but I'm open to suggestions for little happenings to fill the space between bigger happenings. Thoughts?


	13. Disquieted Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta relaxes... Vegeta unrelaxes, Letta has a crisis...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updated September 19, 2018**

“Earth to Vegeta,” Piccolo says, waving his hand in front of Vegeta’s face. 

With a blink, Vegeta returns to the present and stares at Piccolo. “What?” 

“Lost you for a second there. Where did you go?” 

Vegeta shakes his head and spits out the now-destroyed pen lid he’s apparently been gnawing on. “Just… thinking,” he replies vaguely. 

“Well, Goku’s here to see you.” 

Vegeta makes a head motion that Piccolo interprets as ‘send him in,’ and shortly afterward, Goku appears in the doorway.

“Kakarot.”

“Hey, Vegeta. Just wanted to tell you that we have the wedding date set now. We decided on a Sunday, since that tends to be the shop’s quietest day. And it’s usually cheaper that way.” 

“How magnanimous of you,” Vegeta says with a lifted eyebrow. 

Goku chuckles nervously and looks over his shoulder. He lingers in the doorway for a few more seconds, opening his mouth several times as though he’s about to speak.

“Out with it,” Vegeta urges, finally swinging the chair toward him and crossing his arms. 

“Well, Chichi ‘n’ I were talking, and I thought maybe we would invite Raditz and his daughter to the wedding. Chichi isn’t so sure, says he sounds like a bit of a delinquent-”

“-Which he is,” Vegeta interrupts.

“I know, but he’s family. And from the sounds of it, you ‘n’ Letta are the only people he’s got in his life. So I want to include him.” 

Vegeta shrugs. “Alright, don’t know why you’re telling me this. It’s _your_ wedding.” 

Goku furrows his brow. “Because you’re the one who introduced us. I just wanted to run it by you.” 

“You want my approval? I can’t stand in your way, Kakarot. The decision is yours.” 

“I value your opinion,” Goku shrugs and looks over his shoulder again. 

That one catches Vegeta off-guard. “I see,” he murmurs, brows knitting to match Goku’s expression. He fiddles with the pen, flipping it between his fingers as the silence stretches out. “I think you should get to know him a little bit better first. He can be…” He waves his hand in the air, searching for the right word. “Volatile.” 

“I’ve heard that people can change,” Goku says with a knowing smile and a raised eyebrow. 

“Not always,” Vegeta warns. 

“But you’re right. It’s good advice. Uh, anyway,” Goku says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You wanna come out for drinks? Bulma’s going to meet us at the pub once she’s finished up in the lab.” 

“She never mentioned this to me.” 

“Chichi just spent half an hour on the phone with her on the drive here. We told her we’d bring you.” 

Vegeta stands and winces at the stiffness in his legs. “Sounds like I have no choice,” he growls half-heartedly. In all honesty, he really could use a beer.

\---

Vegeta swirls the amber liquid in his stein around like wine. It’s not his favorite; he catches another whiff of the hoppiness and wrinkles his nose. 

_Anyone who claims to enjoy this is lying_ , he thinks to himself as he takes another swig and screws up his face in disgust. 

The conversation continues without him. It feels like the old days, back when all of this was new. But now it’s familiar and Vegeta doesn’t mind so much. Krillin tells jokes, Yamcha makes eyes at the waitress, and Bulma’s laughter mingles with the background sounds of the pub. 

Vegeta orders a lager next. No more of this IPA nonsense--life’s too short to drink bitter beer-- and actually enjoys it this time. 

Two tables over, he catches the eye of a like-minded individual with a bottle of the same next to his table placement. The man raises his glass in silent toast. Vegeta does likewise. 

Bulma finishes off what Vegeta counts to be her third cocktail of the evening and places her hand gently on his shoulder. She leans toward him with a dopey grin on her face and bats her eyelashes. 

Vegeta raises an eyebrow at her and takes another sip of beer. 

Later, as they are about to leave, Bulma suggests they go for a walk. The night air will do her good, maybe sober her up a little. 

Vegeta orders her a coffee to go and helps her pull her jacket onto her bare shoulders. 

She tucks up against him, her breath creates little puffs of vapor that dissipate as they meander down the sidewalk away from the downtown pub. As they walk, she recounts an incident that occurred in the lab earlier that day. 

“Sounds like that made a mess,” Vegeta says, lips quirked up in a half-smile. 

“I know! I’m going to have to add a bonus onto our cleaning crew’s paycheck this week,” Bulma says, shaking her head and chuckling. “They deserve it.” 

“Speaking of the lab, Raditz told me that Letta has been begging to come back for another visit. I think she’s enamored by all this science you’re exposing her to.” 

Bulma, who has more than a couple of drinks in her, throws her hand in the air dramatically. “She shall be my protege, and together we will conquer the world!” 

“Shh,” Vegeta says, reaching around to put his gloved hand over her mouth. “You’re going to wake the whole neighborhood.” 

“Mmf,” Bulma mutters against his hand. She puts her hands on her hips. 

Vegeta removes his hand. “What?” 

Bulma swings her arms around Vegeta’s neck and stands on her tip-toes to grace him with a very poorly aimed kiss. She tries again, catching his mouth this time. 

“Hmm,” Vegeta mumbles, and can’t help but smile into the kiss--sloppy as it is. He moves to hiss her cheek instead when something catches his eye behind her. His arm instinctively tightens around her waist as he scans the shadows, but he’s had a few drinks himself and can’t make out any distinct shapes. “We should head home,” he murmurs. 

“What, don’t wanna do this now?” Bulma teases, her words slurring together as she attempts to kiss him again. 

Vegeta fixes her in his stern gaze and holds her by the shoulders. “You’re drunk. You need to go home. I’ll take you, c’mon.” 

She acquiesces, allowing him to guide her back toward the brightness of the main street. 

_Toward safety_ , whisper the hairs standing up at the back of Vegeta’s neck.

\---

Vegeta wraps his hands around his mug, staring outside as he takes another sip. 

The brilliant pink and orange hues of the sunrise splash across the tables in the cafe. The shadows grow shorter as the sun continues its ascent. 

The quiet whir of the espresso machine heating up in the background lulls Vegeta; his eyelids droop while his mind wanders. Maybe he needs to take a break. Piccolo had, in that way of his, prodded Vegeta to be more… _present._

And Vegeta knows he hasn’t been himself lately. The strings connecting him to his old life have been growing stronger ever since Raditz decided to quit being so aloof. 

The key turns in the back door and Goku lets himself in, pausing to hang his jacket on the peg in the hallway before continuing into the cafe proper.   
“Hey,” he says quietly. 

Vegeta grunts in response before taking another long sip of coffee. It’s black this morning. All the better to wake him up and stop the pounding headache that’s been bothering him since last night. 

They finish their opening duties in silence--not tense, but not the most relaxed, either. When Krillin arrives, he senses _something_ in the atmosphere and even manages not to fawn over Eighteen when she arrives shortly afterward. 

After the lunch rush, Vegeta pulls Goku aside as he passes the office. “I need to take some time away to get something sorted out. I trust that you’ll be able to take care of everything while I’m gone.”

Goku’s eyes search his, and upon meeting Vegeta’s carefully neutral expression, he nods. 

Vegeta pulls his jacket on, gives the cafe a final once-over, and disappears quietly out the back door. He calls Raditz once he gets into his car, but there’s no answer. 

There’s a traffic jam on the way home. Not the most relaxing start to his impromptu vacation. He taps his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, and after what seems like an eternity, he finally clears the main roads and turns onto the Capsule Corp grounds to head home and pick up a few things. 

He’s not twenty minutes out of the city when his phone rings. 

It’s Letta. 

She’s crying. 

“I don’t know where daddy is,” she sobs into the phone. 

\---

Vegeta will argue that he’s not the paternal type. He has no problem with children, but he’ll never have any of his own. Not if he can help it. 

But he’ll be damned if he’s not going to protect this little girl in his arms from all the evils in the world, whether they’re close to home or a million miles away. He tucks Letta’s head against his chest and holds her close, patting her hair soothingly as she sniffles and hiccups. 

Raditz still isn’t answering his phone. 

“Come with me, we’re going to my house,” Vegeta says resolutely after spending an hour and a half with no word trying to calm both himself and Letta down. 

It doesn’t make sense--Raditz’ jacket is still in the front hallway, his shoes are by the door. Letta said that he’d kissed her goodnight last night and he wasn’t there when she woke up. 

She thought he’d gone to get groceries. 

“You did the right thing,” Vegeta says gruffly as he buckles her into the backseat of the Mercedes, mentally noting he might have to buy a booster seat. “Did your dad give you my number?” 

Letta nodded and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “He wrote it down in case of emergencies.” 

“Good.” Vegeta climbs into the front seat and turns the ignition. 

Once he’s fed her a proper lunch and gotten her to calm down, Vegeta realizes that he might not be getting that vacation after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come follow me on [tumblr](http://jadefyre.tumblr.com)!


	14. The Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A happy coincidence cuts short Vegeta's search for Raditz, some mysteries are solved, and Bulma swoops in to save the day. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Updated September 19, 2018**   
>  A huuuuge thank you to both [LadyCressa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ladycressa) for the beta and [VeraLynn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/veralynn) for the assistance with the medical details!

The kettle roars to life as Vegeta peruses his ever-growing tea collection. He glances over his shoulder to find Letta already settled onto his couch, worried eyes flitting about the room. 

“I’m going to get Bulma to come over and stay with you while I try to figure out where your dad is.” 

Letta nods and lets out a tiny sniffle. “‘Kay,” she says, dejected. “I hope he’s okay. He’s been acting _really_ weird lately.” 

Vegeta pauses before pulling down a sachet of herbal tea. He tries to keep his voice neutral. “Weird how?” 

“He talks really quiet on the phone and he keeps his bedroom door shut. He says I can’t go in there because he’s working on an important project that can’t be disturbed. He _never_ has projects that I can’t see!” 

Letta’s voice rises in pitch such that Vegeta panics and rushes the tea to her as quickly as possible after dropping in an ice cube to cool it down a little. 

“Thanks,” she says in a tiny voice that pulls at his heart-strings. Her hands curl around the mug and she takes a sip of the soothing camomile. 

“Bulma will be here soon, I promise. Are you going to be okay?” Vegeta asks, crouching to look Letta in the eye. His voice is soft, but his face is serious. 

Letta meets his gaze and nods once before hiding her trembling lower lip behind the mug, going in for another sip. 

It doesn’t take long for Bulma to appear at the front door after Vegeta calls her. She had to have known it was urgent; he’ll always text if the option is available to him. She has a bag full of odds and ends slung over her shoulder, so she lays it on the table and rushes to Letta’s side. 

With no words--only a knowing gaze shared between them -- Vegeta quietly slips out of the house and tries Raditz on the phone one final time before taking off in his Mercedes. 

\---

Upon entering the ER at the last hospital in the area, Vegeta approaches the triage area and asks a nurse where to find out about a patient. She directs him down the hall to an area where a handful of doctors and nurses are milling around. 

“I’m sorry, there’s no one by that name here,” a nurse at the hub says after she checks her clipboard for the details Vegeta provides. “Have you tried West City General?” 

Vegeta shoves his hands in his pockets and sighs. “Yeah. And West City Northern Regional.” 

The receptionist makes a sympathetic face before kindly dismissing him by going back to filling out forms. 

Vegeta turns away and gazes down the hospital corridors. 

He’s all too familiar with the sterile surroundings and harried ER doctors. There’s never a dull moment; patients on stretchers and nurses scurrying from one bed to the next constantly fill the hallways. 

An old scar on his shoulder aches as he gazes at the green curtains sectioning off the beds where he once lay, semi-conscious as a tut-tutting nurse stitched his wound. He shakes his head, dismissing the memory firmly. _Don’t dwell on that life,_ his inner voice urges. He decides to listen.

Vegeta wanders the halls trying to retrace his steps back to the main entrance of the hospital when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

> _Any luck?_

It’s Bulma. He looks at his watch and realizes he hasn’t checked in for the last three hours. 

< _Nada. Still looking._

> _Remember to eat something._

Vegeta rounds a corner to find himself in an atrium with vaulted ceilings. A row of cushioned benches beckon to him to stop, gather his thoughts, and rest before continuing the arduous task of finding one man in a city of nearly a million people. 

As he attempts to trace his steps back to where he came from, a commotion down the hall catches his interest. He follows the noise until he comes across the ambulance bay, where paramedics are offloading a stretcher occupied by none other than Raditz himself. 

Well, isn’t that just one hell of a coincidence? 

\---

“Raditz,” Vegeta breathes out, having managed to get to the doors of the trauma bay in time to see him. He stops in his tracks, taken aback by the sheer amount of blood covering the other man’s face. That, and the lack of shoes, and the fact that he’s wearing only a t-shirt and sweats despite the chilly weather outside.

A nurse turns toward Vegeta, ready to shoo him away so she can close the door when Raditz’s bruised hand reaches out to catch her wrist. “Let ‘im stay,” he mumbles. 

“No,” the nurse says firmly. She turns toward Vegeta and points to the crowded waiting room. “Out there,” she barks in a no-nonsense tone, blocking Vegeta’s intended path with her small but stout body. 

After what feels like hours, Raditz is discharged to Vegeta’s care. 

“He has a concussion, so he shouldn’t be alone when he sleeps tonight. He can take Tylenol but no ibuprofen or narcotics, and he should take it easy for a couple of days. Make sure he stays in bed,” the discharging doctor instructs Vegeta, who merely nods dutifully. 

A nurse wheels Raditz out to the main entrance in a wheelchair with Vegeta tagging close behind. 

“How the hell’d you find me so quick?” Raditz asks, his words slurring one into the next as he stands--a bit wobbly--and leans on Vegeta.

“Happenstance,” Vegeta says with a quirk of his eyebrow. “I’m going to drive you home, and you’re going to tell me what the hell dropped you so hard you had to make an ER visit.” 

“Should see the other guy,” Raditz chuckles, taking a mock swing at the air in front of him and promptly losing his balance. 

“Quit moving around, you big oaf,” Vegeta grumbles. “Or I’ll haul your concussed ass back in there myself. And you’re paying me back for those overpriced gift shop slippers. Who the hell charges $35 for fabric-covered cardboard? It’s highway robbery.” 

Once they get to Vegeta’s Mercedes, he opens the passenger door and gingerly helps his charge sit inside. “Don’t bleed all over the place,” Vegeta instructs before closing the door and walking around to his side. 

Raditz is oddly silent on the drive back to his place. “Did you tell Letta?” he finally asks as Vegeta turns down his street. 

“Where I found you? No, but we’re going to get you cleaned up before I bring her back here.” 

“Back?” 

“Yeah, took her to my place. She’s with Bulma right now.” 

“Mm.” Raditz nods sagely like Vegeta just uttered a statement of profound wisdom. “Good call, probably.” 

“Care to explain why the hell you’ve got no jacket or shoes?” 

“I _did_.” Raditz says after a brief moment of confusion, and then pouts while staring out the passenger side window. “Lost ‘em.” 

Vegeta can’t figure it out. He doesn’t smell like booze, and he doesn’t look high--his pupils are the size of saucers, but his sclera isn’t bloodshot. “Did you get beat up? Somebody jump you?” 

“Ehh,” Raditz replies with a non-committal hand wiggle. “Something like that. I cleaned the floor with him before his buddy dropped me in the next round, though.” 

“Round? What, like boxing?” 

“In a manner of speaking.” 

Vegeta side-eyes Raditz and his vague responses. “Quit dodging my questions.” 

Once inside, Vegeta sets about the task of cleaning up all the blood. It looks a lot worse than it is, but it still stings like a bitch when Vegeta uses a face cloth to scrub clean Raditz’ face. 

“There. You look human again,” Vegeta says, stepping away and examining his handiwork. “Unfortunately.” 

Raditz may have a half-swollen-shut eye and a gash on his forehead, but at least he won’t frighten his poor daughter too much when she comes home to see him. 

“Were you actually fighting?” Vegeta asks matter-of-factly as he helps Raditz to bed. 

“Yeah,” Raditz admits with a shrug. 

“Was it on purpose?” 

“Yeah.” 

“For money?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Goddammit, Raditz, are you in a fucking fight club?”

A pause. “Yeah.” Raditz looks away from Vegeta and purses his lips. “I have a second mouth to feed. I have to find an income somewhere.” 

Vegeta pinches the bridge of his nose. “How long?” 

“Just a few months. Once I was cleared for strenuous activity by the doc after I healed from the burns.” 

There’s a brief moment of silence before Vegeta speaks again, this time his tone a little softer. “Why didn’t you say something?” 

Raditz shrugs. “You clearly didn’t want anything to do with me.” 

Now it’s Vegeta’s turn to look down at his hands, guilty. “Seeing you brought up a lot of painful reminders. I was trying to move on from that life, felt like I was about to be pulled back in.”

“And I don’t blame you. But the fact of the matter was, I didn’t have a job to come back to after that whole fiasco and nobody wants to hire an ex-con.” 

A long silence stretches out between them. 

“I should let you get some rest. I’ll be in the living room,” Vegeta says, departing without looking back. 

\---

Letta and Bulma sit at the kitchen table, each with a glass of juice before them. They’re quiet, but Letta seems in much better spirits than she was earlier in the day. 

“I’ve asked your dad if he wants you to stay with Bulma for a few days,” Vegeta says, placing his coffee mug on the table as well. “You can come visit him every day, though.” 

Letta frowns. “Are you gonna stay over?” She gestures back toward the living room. “We have pull-out couch, and I don’t _have_ to go, we can stay up late and watch tv like when you were here last time!”

Bulma smiles gently and puts her hand on Vegeta’s shoulder before turning to face Letta. “I have an even better idea. Why don’t you _and_ your dad come stay at Capsule Corp in our other guest house. That way you’ll be nice and close, and you can come see me at the lab, too.” 

Letta, of course, is thrilled with that proposition. She forgets about her juice and runs off down the hall to ask Raditz if they can _please_ stay at Bulma’s, _pretty, pretty please, she said we could, it’ll be so fun!_

The conversation down the hall lowers to indoor-voice levels and Bulma and Vegeta share a look. 

Vegeta pulls his gaze from Raditz’s closed door and back to Bulma. “You have a penchant for collecting strays, it seems.” 

Bulma smiles enigmatically. “I see a need, I fill it. That’s why I’m an inventor. And a philanthropist. Gotta put this genius to good use,” she says, tapping her temple. 

“You certainly are smart,” Vegeta understates with a sly smile.

Bulma shrugs, blushing at the underlying compliment. “I was a bratty kid, made some… questionable decisions. I’m just trying to make up for it. At least I’m not _totally_ self-centred anymore.” 

Vegeta hums. “You know so much about my past. Way too much, I think. And I know hardly anything about yours.” 

Bulma frowns and pretends to think. “It’s all boring stuff, really. Maybe a couple of wild adventures abroad. Nothing special.” 

“Mhm,” Vegeta says, sipping his coffee. He doesn’t believe her one bit. At one time he couldn’t have cared less about knowing trivial details about a person, but now he finds he wants to know every little thing about Bulma. He tilts his head as he looks at her, pondering. 

“What?” Bulma asks just as Letta bursts out of Raditz’ room, little feet pattering down the hall toward them before screeching to a halt beside the kitchen table. 

“Dad said okay! I’m gonna pack some stuff. This is gonna be so fu-uu-uun,” she sings to herself as she skips off toward her room. 

Vegeta follows her to help pack some of Raditz’ things for the stay while Bulma cleans up their dishes and sets about turning off lights and shutting curtains. 

Outside, a dark car drives away down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Send me an ask on Tumblr!](http://jadefyre.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> As always, I love your comments and looove hearing your thoughts on each chapter. Let me know what worked for you, where you think the story's going, anything at all! *mwah*


	15. Too Late to Say Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updated September 19, 2018**
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta, [LadyCressa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCressa)!

Vegeta props his head on his hand, absentmindedly twirling the spoon in his cup to create a vortex of tea and cream. 

Across from him, Letta chews the end of her pencil while she works on her homework—a set of math problems that she works through at an almost superhuman pace, Vegeta thinks. She takes a sip of her orange juice and hums under her breath. 

“Bulma said you can go see her at the lab once you finish your math and science,” Vegeta says. “Your dad told her that you’re a little behind with your schoolwork.” 

Letta stops writing and looks up at him, a serious expression on her face. “Only by a couple of weeks,” she mutters. “It’s not like they’re going to hold me back a grade. I’m _homeschooled_.” 

Vegeta raises an eyebrow. “The quicker you get it finished, the more time you have to spend with Bulma,” he points out. 

“You sound just like my dad,” Letta sighs, then returns to her work. 

Raditz raises an eyebrow from his spot on the couch. “It’s because your old man is right,” he calls out. He sits with his legs propped up, laptop resting on his thighs. 

Vegeta finishes his tea and stands. “Well, I’m going to go back to my place for a bit. Call me when Letta’s on her way to the lab so I can make sure you don’t die or something.” 

Letta waves from the table without looking up and Raditz does the same from behind his laptop. 

As Vegeta steps out the door, he gets the distinct feeling like he and Raditz are going to need a serious conversation later on. 

\---

There’s no answer at the door when he knocks, so he pulls his phone out to text Raditz. 

_Let me in, asshole_. 

He doesn’t hear any footsteps, but the door opens a crack no more than five seconds later. “Oh, it is you,” Raditz whispers and motions for Vegeta to come inside. “Make sure you lock it after you,” he says over his shoulder. “I swear I saw someone out there after you left earlier.” 

“It was probably just one of the groundskeepers,” Vegeta says with a dismissive shrug. They were all over the Capsule Corp grounds these days. 

Raditz narrows his eyes. “Do they drive black cars?” 

Vegeta raises an eyebrow. “If someone were surveilling you, do you really think they’d be doing it in broad daylight?” 

To his relief, Raditz doesn’t have an answer for that. Happy to have steered clear of that conversation for now, Vegeta settles on the couch and turns on the TV. Raditz sits across from him and crosses his arms, and the two of them stare at the screen for a solid twenty minutes before either of them speaks again. 

Without turning away from the television, Raditz heaves a sigh. “I had to do it, you know. Nobody wants to hire a convicted felon and I have another mouth to feed. I didn’t want her to have even an _inkling_ of the life that I had growing up. You never knew the same things I went through.” 

“I just don’t know why you didn’t say something,” Vegeta mutters. 

“I dunno, ‘cause you’d judge me for it? That’s your specialty, after all.” 

Vegeta pointedly decides not to respond to the jab. But Raditz is right, Vegeta never saw the inside of a prison wall--miraculously, because he certainly belonged there--and he was careful to keep his… _interests_ close to his chest. And in his pants. But that’s a subject for another time. “You know, if you needed to, I’m sure I could use a helping hand a few days a week at the cafe.” 

“I don’t need your charity,” Raditz huffs. “Just because I wasn’t as lucky as you were to get out of the biz in time doesn’t mean I can’t find my own way.” 

“It’s not charity,” Vegeta says evenly. Carefully. 

But Raditz isn’t finished. “Look at you. You’re successful. You have a hot, brilliant girlfriend who also happens to be the heir to the richest corporation on earth.” 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Vegeta mutters. 

“Oh, so now who’s the liar?” Raditz needles him. “You’ve got it _made,_ and you had it all handed to you on a platter.” 

Vegeta feels the facade covering his annoyance crumble. “Yeah, because inheriting a drug front that almost got you and me killed has been a fucking walk in the park. Because putting myself through college and learning how to be a real person and not a pawn is just the easiest thing in the world. I’m not pretending I’ve always made good choices, asshole, but I know a thing or two about living a shitty life.” 

Raditz rolls his eyes so hard Vegeta can barely see his irises. His next words come out fast and low, and his tone of voice could pierce a man through. “You’ll never know the fear I live with every day. Fear that I’m not going to make it home alive to see my little girl, or that she’s going to get taken away from me because someone’s going to notice that I’m not good enough.” 

“It’s not my fault you couldn’t keep it in your pants,” Vegeta says and immediately regrets. He knows he’s gone too far the moment Raditz goes quiet, and he knows he deserves the seething hatred in the other man’s next words. 

“I loved her, Vegeta. I loved her, and they took her away.” 

Vegeta flinches when Raditz’s voice cracks and he looks down at his hands. “Raditz, I didn’t mean-” He dares to look up to meet his eyes, and finds nothing but pain. He swallows his pride. “ _I’m sorry_.” 

“Yeah, well, all the sorries in the world won’t bring her back.” 

“I know.” 

They sit in tense silence as the program on the television changes. 

“My offer still stands,” Vegeta says quietly and stands up. He paces in the kitchen before stopping in front of the little window above the sink. Something outside catches his eye and for a split second he swears he sees the sun’s reflection off metal toward the tree line. 

Raditz retreats into the bedroom and shuts the door, leaving Vegeta alone with his thoughts. 

\---

“You ever say something and know immediately that you’ve fucked up?” Vegeta asks the moment the door closes behind Letta as she leaves Bulma in the lab. 

“No, never,” Bulma says flatly then raises an eyebrow at Vegeta’s taken-aback expression before he realizes she’s not serious. She lets another beat pass before she smiles. “What did you say to poor Raditz? Maybe it was a bad idea to leave the two of you alone for the afternoon.” She flutters around the lab, tidying up blueprints and straightening up scattered boxes of parts. 

“Tch.” Vegeta scowls and looks away. “Nothing he can’t handle.” 

“Well, there you go,” Bulma says, turning toward him and wiping her hands on a cloth. “He’s a big boy. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” 

“I still feel shitty for saying what I said, though.” 

Bulma shrugs. “Guess you never learned to think before you speak, huh?” 

Vegeta frowns and fixes her in an appraising stare. “You know I’m bad at talking to people.” 

“You know you’re bad at it, so have you done anything to improve?” 

“Hm.” Vegeta turns away, crossing his arms. This isn’t going how he hoped. He isn’t sure what he expected--validation, maybe?--but this certainly isn’t it. It’s almost like she’s expecting him to accept the consequences of his actions or something. 

“Don’t sulk,” Bulma scolds, snapping Vegeta out of his self-pitying thoughts. “If it bugs you, apologize. You can’t take back what you said to him, but you don’t have to be a total asshole about it.” 

“I did apologize. Still feel like shit.” 

Bulma stops what she’s doing and puts her hands on his shoulders. “Listen, I’m going to be straight with you here. You’re a grown-ass man, and I know you don’t have the social graces an adult should have by now, but you do have the capacity to figure your shit out. I’ll support you as long as you’re willing to self-improve, but I can’t handle wallowing in self-pity for more than a day, okay? I’m not exactly a saint myself, you know.” 

Vegeta blushes--whether out of shame or embarrassment, he’s not sure--when she winks at him and gives him a swat on his behind before returning to work. “I have enough guilt from my past, I don’t need it from my dumbass present self, too.” 

“Welcome to being a regular human being for the first time ever,” Bulma replies. Once she finishes cleaning up and turns off all the lights, she turns back to Vegeta. “Wanna go get a pizza?” she asks with one of those grins that makes Vegeta’s heart want to burst out of his ribcage. 

“Yeah.” 

\---

“So,” Vegeta says after swallowing the last bite of his pizza. “You’re telling me that your parents let you travel around the world _by yourself_ on a motorcycle? When you were _sixteen?_ ” 

Bulma nods and takes the last drink of her root beer, reaching the bottom of the glass and annoying all the other patrons with the obnoxious slurping sounds. 

“That’s how I met Goku. And Yamcha. And… well, everyone, pretty much.” 

Vegeta nods absentmindedly and looks out the window of the tiny little restaurant. “When I was sixteen, I was heading missions with my crew.” 

“We probably would have hated each other if we met back then,” Bulma chuckles. “Hell, even five years ago I don’t think we’d have gotten along.” 

“It was hard enough warming up to you last year,” Vegeta remarks. He tilts his head to the side. “Sometimes I still wonder how we ended up like this.” 

“What do you mean?” Bulma asks, clearly trying not to look mildly offended. 

“You’re a social butterfly that everyone either wants or wants to be, and I’m the type of person you’d never want to meet in a dark alley. I might have mellowed out a bit but you have to admit I’m still scary as fuck.” 

“Yes, terrifying, especially when you wear that apron of yours and curse at your espresso grinder. And what do you know? Maybe I like scary, macho men.” 

“You were with _Yamcha_ for ten years.” 

“You clearly know nothing about him.” 

“Clearly.” 

Vegeta knows that Yamcha is no threat to him, but he still feels vaguely uncomfortable speaking about his and Bulma’s past relationship. It makes his gut twist up inside--Maybe it’s jealousy. Maybe it’s _envy_. Envy that Yamcha got to live a normal life and know this beautiful, brilliant woman for the last decade and a half. 

“Hey,” Bulma says, snapping her fingers in front of his face to bring him back down to earth. “There’s nothing to worry about. This is a new adventure. Let’s see where it takes us.” 

Her smile is soft and flirtatious and her eyes flash with the mischievous glint that reads, _Let’s get out of here._

Vegeta is only too happy to oblige. 

“Yours or mine?” Bulma asks as Vegeta tugs her by the wrist out the door. 

“I think I’d like to take you home with me this time,” Vegeta replies with a feral grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a few links for you all today. My [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/A084GEX) and [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/jadefyre) as usual, but also... *dun dun dun* a new Vegebul community, VegeBulocracy, is now live on [Tumblr](http://vegebulocracy.tumblr.com) and [Discord](https://discord.gg/qzhwwTy)! There will be writing and art events and challenges, there's a beta-reader pool you can sign up for, and it's open for community members to submit their ideas for future events!


	16. Accidentally In Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Updated September 19, 2018** Updates include congruence with previous edits including the complications of a Friends With Benefits relationship. Slight angst ahead!
> 
> Thank you as always to [LadyCressa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ladycressa) for beta-reading!

Vegeta skims his fingertips down Bulma’s side. The sheets drape over her and she resembles a delicate marble statue, with her eyes half-closed in a pretty rendition of desire. It pains him that she can’t call him _his_ , but he will take every opportunity he can to caress her and pretend. 

He knows it can’t be healthy to pine like this, to have her this way but feel like she’s just out of reach. 

She tells him to go slow, guides his hands with her own over every inch of exposed skin. 

So he does, and he follows her downward, downward, until she begs for him to give her just a little more. He parts her legs, reverence influencing every motion, and positions himself just so to press inside. Her slick heat envelops him and he loses himself to her body, forgetting in those few moments that he doesn’t belong to her. His concerns melt away and exquisite pressure followed by their simultaneous release are all that matter in the universe. 

That, and the words that slip form his mouth at the height of their pleasure. 

\---

Vegeta has never experienced what some might call the walk of shame. From what he hears, it’s usually the other way around: the woman leaves the man’s house with her makeup smudged, hungover, and full of regret. Right now, he feels like he can relate. 

He returns home--a simple walk across the compound--but it feels like it takes hours as he relives the moment over and over in his head. 

Vegeta heads for the cafe, desperate to be anywhere but here. 

He retreats into the office with the door slightly ajar and listens half-heartedly to baristas’ conversation.

The routine proceeds as usual; Goku’s wedding is the talk of the cafe, the baristas laugh about rude customers, and Vegeta… goes red in the face every time he thinks about Bulma and if she’d heard him. 

Idiot. Of course she had. 

“You take a vow of silence during your little vacation?” Krillin asks. 

Vegeta hadn’t even noticed the door opening. 

“Nah, I think he’s just taken up permanent residence inside his head,” Seventeen snickers as he walks past. 

Vegeta wonders how the kid has the audacity to make fun of the person with the ability to fire him if he so desires, but decides it’s not worth his trouble. “I was just deciding what I should have for lunch,” he lies instead. 

“That’s some pretty intense lunch, buddy,” Krillin replies. “I’ll tell Goku you’re busy.” 

After the lunch rush dies down and Krillin and Seventeen are off on their break, Goku takes a cloth out into the now-empty cafe to wipe the tables down as Vegeta emerges from the office to escape the inane chatter from the back room that filters into his office. “So, Chichi and I are going out this weekend to taste cakes and figure out where we want our wedding photos taken.” 

“Okay,” Vegeta says, careful not to let any semblance of interest creep into his voice so that Goku doesn’t take it as an invitation to continue. 

“Bulma’s coming but Krillin’s, uh, unavailable. Would you like to come instead? Maybe it could be a double date, or-” 

“No,” Vegeta says firmly. “I told you, I’ll do security but I’m not doing anything else wedding-related.”

Goku frowns for a brief moment before his stupid grin returns to his face. “I’ve never known anyone who’d turn down cake, but suit yourself.” 

“Well, now you do.” 

“I just can’t believe how quickly it’s coming up already,” Goku says. “Chichi is really stressed, which makes _me_ really stressed, and… man. Weddings kinda suck, actually. But it’s what’s going to make her happy and I know it’ll all be over soon. Then the _real_ fun begins.” 

Vegeta’s face screws up with disgust. “Gross, Kakarot. Keep your private life to yourself.” 

Goku stares back at him in confusion for a long moment before his eyes light up with understanding. “Oh! Ha! No, no no no,” he chuckles. “I meant, we’ll move onto the next project. I’m building a dojo at her place up in the mountains. And an addition on her house so she has a dedicated studio space for her painting. Man, that’s gonna be a long commute every day.” 

Vegeta sighs inwardly as he watches Goku’s train of thought derail on a tangent that Vegeta is no longer a part of. It’s just as well. At least they’re not talking about weddings anymore. Or the feelings surrounding weddings.

Fuck. 

How the hell had he let his mouth run itself before his brain had even _processed_ what he was saying? Bulma had to know that it slipped out by accident, right?

“Vegeta?” Goku asks, back from his off-topic musings. 

“What?” 

“I was asking if you wanted to have a formal sit-down meeting with Piccolo and Eighteen about the latte art competition.” 

It’s Vegeta’s turn to stare in confusion. He’d tuned out of Goku’s ramblings for ten seconds at most. How had the topic strayed in that direction so quickly? “Uh,” he says intelligently while his brain struggles to catch up. “You go ahead and organize that, tell me when it is, I’ll show up.” 

“Are you okay? Does this have to do with Bulma?” 

Vegeta feels his face immediately turn bright red and swears that Goku has some form of mind-reading power. He’s also not sure if he can keep up with all the topic jumps. “It’s fine. Tell me more about the wedding plans,” he says hurriedly in a very obvious, very desperate attempt to get the subject as far away from the woman as possible lest he confess to Goku of all people. “Are you inviting Raditz?” 

Goku stares at him a moment longer. “Chichi wants to meet him first, but she sounded like she’d say yes. I still want to meet Letta. Raditz hasn’t been answering my texts lately, but I guess he’s just busy.” 

“Yeah. Busy,” Vegeta mutters. If only his brother knew what a trainwreck Raditz really was. If only he knew to keep his distance...

\---

A knock at his door later that evening startles Vegeta out of a television-induced trance. He opens the door to find Bulma holding a large pot with two oven mitts. 

“Mom made soup and told me to bring you the leftovers.” She inches past him to let herself in. “That, and I came to see if you’re alright. You took off in such a rush earlier.” 

Damn. Caught. “Had to do some things at the cafe,” Vegeta mumbles. 

“Uh-huh.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Vegeta blurts out, then immediately regrets it when a pained look crosses Bulma’s face. “I mean, I didn’t… think. Before I spoke. It just sort of happened. I don’t know _what_ I meant.” He runs his hand down his face and groans. “I’m… sorry.” 

Bulma takes a deep breath through her nose and exhales loudly. “I was hoping this wouldn’t happen,” she begins. “And to be honest, I’m glad I had the afternoon to think about it. Maybe we need to take a step back-” 

“I’ve never said it before,” Vegeta says, interrupting before she can say that they shouldn’t see each other anymore. _Fuck_ , when did he become so attached? “It just slipped out.” 

“I know,” Bulma says. “But that just makes it harder to keep this… whatever it is, in its place. Maybe in the future, when we’re both able to commit-”

Vegeta looks down at his hands. He knows that time won’t come, that Bulma will realize he’ll never be able to make her happy. 

“I’d rather we mean it when we say it,” she continues softly. 

_Had_ he meant it? His heart aches, but his mind tells him it’s impossible. “I know,” he says. 

“Would you like to go downtown for a drink?” Bulma offers, as happy as Vegeta is to change the subject.

Yeah. Vegeta could use a drink. “Better call a cab,” he mutters. “I have a feeling we’ll need it.” 

\---

It doesn’t take long for the cab to reach the spot just outside of their usual pub. The sky is already dark; the last traces of the red sunset disappear as Bulma slips her hand through the crook in Vegeta’s arm and guides them inside. A live band plays and the thumping bass and crooning vocals trickle out into the street, livening the night air. 

As Vegeta had suspected, “one drink” quickly turns into two, three, four… and the biggest plate of nachos he’s ever seen. He enjoys it for the most part, too--despite the weird toppings that Bulma orders. 

And Bulma, for her part, eats over half and drinks a third of Vegeta’s beer. After her third trip to the ladies’ room, she sits down quietly next to Vegeta. “Maybe we should go for a walk.” Her expression tells him everything he needs to know about her true intentions.

So Vegeta pays their bill--his treat, he insists--and they make their way out the door. 

As they exit the building, a man drinking a pint of lager pulls out his cell phone and sends a text.

\---

Just as Vegeta had suspected, Bulma has ulterior motives for this “walk”. She pulls him into a darkened doorway and teases her tongue down his neck as delicately as possible for someone with four and a half drinks in her. 

Vegeta tilts his head to the side, but also grabs her by the wrists and pins them to the wall behind her. “Maybe we shouldn’t. We’re a little out in the open, don’t you think?” he asks. Not that he has any intention of stopping--in fact, his _intentions_ quickly make themselves clear when he presses up against her. Feelings be damned, he can’t stay away from this woman. 

“Maybe we should go over there,” Bulma whispers and giggles, pointing to an alley only two blocks away. “Looks a little more… private.” 

Moments later and now completely out of sight from the road, Bulma fumbles with the button on Vegeta’s jeans. 

Vegeta takes her by the shoulder and spins them around, pinning her to the wall and pulling her head aside by the hair and sucking at her throat. He’s too engrossed in his actions to hear the footsteps creeping toward them, but the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he feels something press into his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you want to join VegeBul authors and artists from all over the web in the inaugural VegeBul Big Bang event? @vegebulocracy on tumblr is hosting and looking for more entrants (particularly authors, since the artist turnout has been amazing!). A fandom Big Bang is an event where authors write a lengthy fic and then artists are assigned one of the fics for which to create a companion piece. You can find out more about it [here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1mlLbT1HXjIXrqxJSulozpu340CCjU3FJvXO6c4HUiuo/edit?usp=sharing). I'll be entering this event as an author! 
> 
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	17. Action Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updated: September 19, 2018**
> 
> Thanks to [LadyCressa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ladycressa) for reading over this for me and gushing at the cute parts ;) 
> 
> This chapter is NSFW.

Vegeta’s fight or flight instinct has always tended toward “fight”. But when there’s a gun to your back, you tend to rethink your immediate response, as he discovers when he’s told to step backward slowly and raise his hands in the air. 

If it were just him, he’d chance disarming the moron who dared think they could take him down with such an amateur maneuver. But it’s not, and he can’t risk Bulma’s safety with the unpredictability that comes when people go waving guns around. 

So he does what he’s told. He hands over his wallet, keeps his eyes averted. 

Their assailant dons a ski mask and a hood, so it’s not like he could identify him anyway. 

But Vegeta gets the distinct feeling this isn’t a routine robbery, and his suspicions are confirmed when he feels his knees buckle from underneath him and he watches the thief take off down the alley without Bulma’s purse in hand. 

\---

“Are you sure you don’t want to call the police?” Bulma says, worriedly dabbing at the scrape on Vegeta’s face with an antiseptic-soaked cotton ball. He’d gone down hard, not expecting to eat the pavement and therefore having no time to compensate.

“You know I’d rather not get them involved,” Vegeta says, a little too hastily. A little too gruffly. He softens his tone when Bulma recoils slightly. “I’m pretty sure I was targeted, and I don’t want them asking questions.”

“Which is a very _good_ reason to get the police involved. They’re the professionals, they can handle this. You can’t keep letting your old life suck you back into its bullshit.” 

Vegeta winces when she wipes at a second scrape; it stings almost as badly as the first. “I really don’t want to go into a police station.” 

Bulma doesn’t press the matter further. 

They exit the bathroom, which the barista at the late-night cafe had graciously allowed them both to enter with a first aid kit and a raised eyebrow at the state Vegeta was in.

Bulma passes the kit back to the barista and orders a decaf latte for the both of them to share while Vegeta sits down at a two-person table in the corner, walletless and contemplating his next move. 

“Hm,” he says, staring down into the mug. “Their decaf tastes better than ours. I should ask where they get their beans.” 

They sit in silence until the barista approaches them. Her voice almost grates on Vegeta’s nerves, but she’s been kind so he figures he can forgive that. “Can I get you guys anything else? Another latte, on the house? You look like you’ve had a pretty rough night.” 

“I never say no to free coffee,” Bulma says gratefully. 

A few other patrons file in and out while they drink their second latte, but none stay and the other tables remain unoccupied. The barista eventually comes by their part of the cafe again with a little brownie on a plate. “Just so you know, we’re closing in about half an hour but feel free to stay as long as you’d like.” 

Vegeta smirks despite his troubles, saying to Bulma, “Well, that’s cafe-speak for ‘get the hell out,’ so we should probably leave this nice young lady to her closing duties.” 

“I don’t mind the company,” the barista says with a giggle. Her long, dark violet hair flicks back and forth in a ponytail as she methodically cleans up the rest of the tables and starts turning the chairs upright. 

Come closing time, Bulma passes the plate and the mug back to the kind barista as well as a sizable cash tip. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “Tonight hasn’t been the best, but you’ve made it a little more bearable.” 

The barista accepts the tip quietly, her hand on her chest and her eyes welling up. “Thank _you_ ,” she murmurs. 

As they leave the cafe, they hear the barista sneeze. “Bless you,” Bulma calls over her shoulder as the door closes. 

\---

Vegeta is thankful he has the next day off. As he pulls the covers up to his chin and stares at the ceiling that night, the scene plays over and over again in his mind. The thief seemed so familiar, but he can’t place the man. Something about his voice…

“Can’t sleep?” Bulma murmurs beside him. 

Vegeta turns toward her and brushes her hair off her face. Her eyes reflect the moonlight that peaks through the window and his heart is seized by a powerful wave of emotion. He could’ve lost her today. Wordlessly, he pulls her closer and kisses the top of her head. Relationship or no, he’s never known love before, but he thinks he might understand now the tightness in his chest. 

Bulma’s sleep-weary form relaxes into him as he wraps his powerful arms around her. As her breathing slows, Vegeta mouths the three words to her and closes his eyes. 

Vegeta wakes the next morning to find Bulma’s baby blues watching him. He matches her smile and she leans in to kiss his forehead, careful to miss the scrapes. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” he asks in the most cliche way possible. 

“I like to think so,” Bulma replies and cuddles up against him. Her hands and feet are cold, but he doesn’t mind when she presses them into his furnace-like heat. “Wanna make breakfast?” 

“I don’t think I have anything in the kitchen,” Vegeta mumbles as he nuzzles against Bulma’s neck. “Gonna have to go shopping.” He holds her tighter when she tries to wiggle away, not ready for the loss just yet. 

“Maybe we can go get breakfast and go shopping afterward,” Bulma says, squirming so that her back faces him. It’s all a part of her ploy, Vegeta realizes, when she presses her butt against his manhood and giggles when he sucks in a sharp breath. 

“Naughty girl,” he says, using the arm that’s draped over her to explore the soft contours of her body. He runs his thumb over her hip bone and sighs contentedly against the soft expanse of her skin. 

Bulma reaches languidly behind her to massage his scalp and ghost her fingers down his neck. She readily obliges when his hand finds her behind and reaches just a little further to hike her thigh up in the air so he can press his length between her legs. “You want another round?” she asks, grinding back against him. 

“Mm,” Vegeta mutters and thrusts against her. “The answer to that question will always be ‘yes’.” 

Bulma guides his hand downward and leaves him to his ministrations, taking up her part of the action by pressing back into him with as much force as her meager leverage will allow. He readily responds to this by testing her slickness by dipping a finger just inside, and upon finding her ready to accommodate him, guides his cock to her entrance. 

With their bodies at a perpendicular angle to one another, they thrust against each other at a slow, leisurely pace and savor the lazy morning. 

\--- 

Though Vegeta’s shower is a little on the small side, he doesn’t find it the least bit cramped as he allows Bulma to lather his hair up with shampoo. Something about the feeling of their water-slicked skin sliding together as they move around makes Vegeta wish this day would never end. As Vegeta rinses his hair, Bulma uses his shower pouf to scrub her body. He offers to get her back, and as she turns so that he can do so, he admires the way the bubbles slide down and over the curve of her ass. 

“I was thinking of trying that new breakfast place down off the waterway,” Bulma says and hums with pleasure as Vegeta smooths his hands over her soapy skin. “I guess it’ll be my treat, obviously, unless you’ve got some cash hanging around.” 

“I have a very flush bank account, I’ll have you know,” Vegeta grumbles and spanks her ass in retaliation, earning him a delightful little yelp. 

Bulma spins around and pulls him close to her, getting suds all over his freshly-rinsed torso. “Maybe we should spend the day figuring that out instead, huh? Well, at any rate, breakfast first.” 

Vegeta agrees. 

Later that evening, he offers to make dinner for Bulma while she goes over blueprints in his living room. This tiny act of domestication tugs at his heartstrings, making him rethink his stance on settling down--hoping it’ll make _her_ rethink her feelings about it as well. But he shakes his head to dismiss those thoughts. Regardless of what the answer to that question is for him, _her_ answer is the one that matters, and Vegeta knows that Bulma could never be tied down like that. 

The sizzling and spitting of the pork chops in the frying pan almost drown out Vegeta’s thoughts as they drift away from that uncomfortable topic and toward another: trying to figure out who it was that took his shit. 

\--- 

“Well, them’s the breaks,” Krillin says after Vegeta explains why his mood is particularly sour this morning. 

“That is most unfortunate,” Eighteen agrees. “You should have kicked that guy’s head in.” 

“He had a gun, and Bulma was there,” Vegeta explains. “And I’d had a few. So not likely.” 

Eighteen merely shrugs and steps up to the register to greet the customer walking in the door as if she _hadn’t_ just suggested assault and battery as a legitimate way to deal with his problems. 

“Were you on a date or somethin’?” Krillin asks. He’s been getting more bold and less terrified of Vegeta these days, but still wary. 

“We enjoy spending time together,” Vegeta says defensively. “What’s it to you?” 

“What were you doing in that alleyway?” Krillin presses, his tone still teasing. 

Vegeta simply glares and turns back toward the espresso machine, sending Krillin back to wash dishes and deploying Goku in his place. 

Later, a few minutes before closing, Piccolo comes in with a small gaggle of children in tow. “We got any leftover cookies?” he asks, his baritone, no-nonsense voice in stark contrast with both his request and his company. 

“Cookies!” the children cheer in unison, clambering at his feet and tugging on his sweater. 

“I hope you’re not planning to keep those here,” Vegeta says, indicating the horde. “We won’t get anywhere in our discussion.” 

Piccolo flashes a toothy grin. “Nah, my coworker’s on her way over, she’s just running behind trying to round up the rest of the kids.” 

The clock hits closing time, and Vegeta dumps the rest of the cookies into a bag and hands it silently to his weekend manager. “Use them wisely,” he states solemnly. 

The door opens and a tall, long-legged woman with a familiar face walks in. “Oh!” she exclaims when she sees Vegeta. “I didn’t know you worked here! I guess that makes us rivals!” her high-pitched giggle fills the room and she practically floats across the floor in her gracefulness. 

“Launch!” the kids cheer. “Piccolo got us cookies!” 

“Oh, goodie! I hope you’ll save some for me!” Launch says, ruffling the hair of a child that detached herself from Piccolo only to crowd up to her instead. She gathers up the children and waves goodbye to the baristas of the Z Cafe as she herds them outside. “Say thank you,” she instructs the kids, who do so in a disjointed chorus. 

“You two know each other?” Piccolo asks with an arched eyebrow toward Vegeta as they leave. 

“Bulma and I stopped at her cafe late the other night,” Vegeta says with a shrug. “She was nice. Gave us a latte on the house and a free brownie.” 

“Sounds like her,” Piccolo says, a tiny smile pulling at his lips. “Anyway, I’m going to see what those two lovebirds in the back are up to while you guys finish closing.” 

Realizing he’s referring to Krillin and Eighteen, and wondering when they slipped out of his sight, Vegeta is tempted to follow before realizing he doesn’t want to walk in on something private like Piccolo seems to. “I’d knock first,” he calls after him instead. 

Krillin leaves the cafe once he’s finished his closing tasks, almost begrudgingly watching with longing as Eighteen sits at a table with her after-work latte and waits for the men to catch up. She catches him staring and gives a dismissive little wave, though her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Text me after?” Krillin asks as he hovers at the door and is answered by a mere eyebrow quirk. 

Vegeta finishes counting the cash in the office and seals the deposit bag. His phone dings with a text notification and part of him hopes it’s Bulma, and the rest of him is disappointed when it’s Raditz. He didn’t think the big oaf even wanted to speak to him after what he’d said. Unsurprisingly, when he reads it, he finds that it’s Letta asking if she can talk to Bulma. 

> _I’m in a work meeting right now kiddo, but I’ll get her to phone you later._

He slips his phone into his pocket and takes his seat in the last spot at the table. “So,” he says, looking over each of his baristas in turn. “Here’s the plan of action.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come join me and other authors (and artists) in the VegeBul Big Bang challenge! Find out more on [the @vegebulocracy tumblr](http://vegebulocracy.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Read chapters of Cream & Sugar and other VegeBul stories early on [my patreon](https://www.patreon.com/jadefyre).


	18. Break-in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updated September 19, 2018**
> 
> Thank you to [Super_Saiyanerd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/super_saiyanerd) for beta-reading :) 
> 
> And thank you my readers for your infinite patience. I wanted to be sure this was where I wanted to go with this story, and I rewrote this chapter twice.

Long shadows stretch across Vegeta’s driveway as he returns home. 

The meeting went well, and late. Afterward, Kakarot had taken him out for a drink in an attempt to soften him up to more wedding-related requests. 

Vegeta whistles to himself as his footsteps crunch across the gravel. His keys jingle as he flips through them, finding the right one by its feel. As he reaches the stoop, he stops dead in his tracks, patting his pockets before realizing that of _course_ he doesn’t have his wallet. 

With a sigh, he unlocks the door, steps inside and flicks on the lightswitch. Something immediately feels off, but he can’t pin it. There’s nobody there; the living room is empty, as is the bathroom. His bedroom door is shut, and obviously nobody’s in the kitchen. He shrugs and dismisses it as simple paranoia. 

A thought strikes him as he rummages through his cupboards, looking for dinner. Hadn’t he left his bedroom door open this morning? A shiver runs down his spine and he grabs the machete he keeps by the front door. 

He’s always prepared for a fight, but that doesn’t mean he really wants to gut somebody in Bulma’s guest house. After creeping across the house and opening the door, he discovers the room is empty. But there, on his pillow, sits his wallet and a note written in shaky cursive: “ _I’m sorry._ ”

Vegeta’s first instinct is to call Raditz. He’s already half-way dialled the number before he even realizes what he’s doing, but who else would he turn to for this? 

“Uncle ‘Geta!” Letta greets him when she picks up. “Is Auntie Bulma with you?” 

Oh yeah. He was supposed to get Bulma to call her, wasn’t he? “Uh, no, but I need to talk to your dad. Is he there?” 

Letta makes a disappointed noise and there’s a shuffling noise as she passes the phone off. 

“Yeah?” Raditz’ sleep-weary voice comes on. “Whaddya want?” 

“Someone broke into my house.” 

“What? Shit, did they take anything?” Raditz asks, and Vegeta can hear Letta tutting at him in the background for swearing. 

 

“No, but I was mugged the other night. And now my wallet is here, sitting on my pillow.” He picks it up and flips through it. “Wiith everything inside, it looks like,” Vegeta says, thumbing it open and checking his ID. “Left it with a note that said ‘I’m sorry’ on it, too.” 

“That’s weird,” Raditz says, more alert now. “Maybe it was some stupid gang initiation and the guy felt bad? Would’ve gotten your address off your license, right?” 

Vegeta stares at the wallet in his hands. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t really know why I called.” There’s an edge in Raditz’ voice that Vegeta can barely make out over the phone. 

“Because I still have one foot in the game,” Raditz chuckles. “A few of the guys and I still keep in touch, so I guess I’m your guy on the inside.” 

Vegeta furrows his brow and bites his lip in thought. “Listen, Raditz, we gotta talk. Meet me at the usual place, okay? And tell Letta I’m sorry I didn’t get Bulma to call her.” 

“I still haven’t forgiven you.” 

“I know.” 

\---

“I thought we were past these clandestine meetings,” Raditz says. His hulking form blocks out the moonlight shining on Vegeta’s face, and though his hair is tied back, its volume becomes part of his silhouette.

“Didn’t wanna ask in front of the kid,” Vegeta says with a shrug. 

“She knows enough about me that nothing’s gonna surprise her,” Raditz says. “I gave up trying to hide it from her. She has her ways of finding things out.” 

“Does she know about Kakarot yet?” 

Raditz shrugs. “No. He’s been trying to get in touch, but I gotta wait for the right time.” 

“I’m surprised she still doesn’t know. You’re shit at hiding secrets,” Vegeta replies with a lifted eyebrow. “Always have been.” 

“Ouch, man,” Raditz replies. “Not pulling your punches tonight, are you? What the hell did you want to ask, anyway?” 

 

“Something’s up with you. The fight club, acting like someone’s watching you. Is there something going on that I need to know about?” 

Raditz’s face drops for a split second before it splits into a grin. “What? No, man. What the hell gave you that idea?” 

“You’re gearing up for something big, aren’t you?” Vegeta asks. “Something you’re not sure you’ll make it out of alive? You said yourself, you’re my ‘guy on the inside’. You’re still working with them, aren’t you?” 

Raditz’s shoulders shake when he laughs. “Fuck, I just meant I play poker with them sometimes. Few of ‘em are a little loose-lipped when they’ve had a few, ya know?” 

Vegeta takes a deep breath. “Seems like you’re tying up loose ends, that’s all,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. 

Raditz puts his fingers to his forehead. “I just need to make sure Letta’s taken care of _in case_ anything happens to me. Ever. After the incident in the GR, I got to thinking about what would have happened to _her_ if I bit it. I can’t just care about myself anymore. Maybe when you have kids you’ll get it.” 

There’s an earnestness in Raditz’s eyes that Vegeta can’t ignore. Part of him knows that there’s more to it than that, but he decides to let it go for now. “Yeah, like _that_ would ever happen,” Vegeta snorts, glad the darkness of the night hides the red on his cheeks. 

“Man, you never know,” Raditz chuckles. “Bulma’s a pretty lady, you’re a handsome guy… your kids would be godlike.” 

“Can we _not_ ,” Vegeta growls as Raditz continues laughing at his expense. He sighs when his friend claps him on the shoulder and gives him a knowing look. 

“Well, now that you’ve interrupted my beauty rest, you wanna go get a beer?” 

“Why _were_ you sleeping, anyway?” 

Raditz winks and turns on his heel toward the direction of the nearest bar. 

“You gonna tell me about this woman of yours?” Vegeta asks, jogging to catch up. 

“Not on your life,” Raditz replies. 

\---

When Vegeta wakes up the next morning, he wonders why his head feels like it’s about to explode. He rolls over to find a glass of water and and Advil on his bedside table and thanks whatever higher power is obviously looking out for him. 

He doesn’t remember much about last night. Raditz, beer, bar crawling… who thought _that_ was a good idea? After that, his memory is blank. He downs the Advil and the water in a few large gulps and falls back to his pillow. 

Vegeta startles awake an hour later when his phone chirps. He fumbles around the knotted blankets to find it, only to moan in pain when the screen lights up-- its brightness set to fucking _nuclear_. He’s pretty sure _that’s_ forever seared on his retinas. 

It’s Raditz. 

> _You need to get over here ASAP_

\---

The door is unlocked when Vegeta arrives. When he opens it, he finds Letta quietly coloring at the kitchen table with the TV on in the background. “Hey kiddo,” he greets. 

Without moving her head, she looks up at him in brief acknowledgement before continuing her masterpiece. Her jaw is set on the verge of a pout. 

“Your dad asked me to come over. Is everything okay?” 

Letta shrugs then tilts her head in the direction of Raditz’s bedroom. As Vegeta moves past her and down the hallway, a loud _thump_ shakes the floor.

He peers inside the bedroom door to find a tangled mess of sheets on the bed and Raditz on the floor, facedown and not moving. 

“You alright?” Vegeta asks, barely managing to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Raditz had drank more than he had, and looked in much worse shape for it too. When he doesn’t respond, Vegeta steps into the bedroom and calls out to him again.

Still nothing.

And when Raditz doesn’t move even when Vegeta nudges him in the side with his toe, he knows something’s wrong. He rolls his friend over, only to be greeted by a sheet-white face and blue lips, with eyes rolled back in his head. 

\---  
The hospital waiting room is overflowing with families and friends of the ER patients. Vegeta paces up and down, having given up sitting for Letta to have the last seat available. He kneels in front of her, holding her by the shoulders. “You’re going to come stay with me for a few days okay? Just until the doctors can figure out what’s wrong with your dad and make him better.” 

Letta nods and wipes the back of her hand across her runny nose. Another set of tears spills down her face and she sniffles. “Is he gonna be alright?”

“I don’t know,” Vegeta says, trying to make his gruff voice as soft as he can. “But why don’t we go for a walk until the hospital calls me?” 

Letta shakes her head. “I wanna stay here.” 

“Alright, we can stay here. Would you like me to get you a sandwich?” 

Letta shakes her head. “No thank you,” she says quietly, staring down at her lap. 

Vegeta squeezes her shoulders reassuringly and resumes pacing. 

Later, a nurse approaches Vegeta and pulls him aside. “We’ve put in a breathing tube and have him on oxygen. We still haven’t been able to figure out what caused the collapse, and we have to wait for the toxicology reports to come back. You said he was drinking heavily last night?” 

Vegeta glances back at Letta, who’s looking at a brochure in the waiting room but obviously paying attention to the conversation, before he looks back at the nurse. “Yeah.” 

“That’ll give us a place to start, at least. We still haven’t been able to wake him up, so we’re not sure if there’s been brain damage. This doesn’t look like something alcohol-related, so we might need to run a few more tests.” 

An hour and a half later, a different nurse returns to the waiting room and signals for Vegeta to join him. “Does he have any adult relatives who could be present to make medical decisions?” 

Vegeta blanches at the implication. “Yes, a brother.” 

“Can you contact him?” 

Vegeta nods once. 

\---

Goku arrives not half an hour after Vegeta calls him. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” 

“I’ve been taking care of Letta. I didn’t think of it.” 

“I’m his _brother_ , Vegeta,” Goku replies, hurt. “Even if we did just meet. Is he awake? Can I see him?” 

The nurse takes Goku out of earshot of the waiting room. 

Vegeta watches as his face falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I appreciate your comments, whether they be short, long, or just incomprehensible emotional keysmashing :D


	19. Every Rose...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Updated September 19, 2018**
> 
> Thank you to [rockykelboa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rockykelboa) for beta reading!
> 
> I promise the next chapter isn't going to take another month to post. ^^;

Vegeta is at Goku’s side in an instant. The nurse smiles, tightlipped and apologetic at Goku and tells him that when they know more, he’ll be the first to find out. 

“He’s in a coma,” Goku says to Vegeta without turning to look at him. His voice is rife with disbelief. “They think he’s been poisoned. I can’t learn that I have a brother only to lose him right away…”   
His shock permeates his being. He turns toward Letta, sitting in the waiting room, who can tell by their expressions that the news isn’t good. 

Vegeta feels like he’s been punched in the gut with a knife. Poison? Who’d had the opportunity...

The knife twists when Letta silently gets up and walks toward them, fists clenching at her side and trying not to cry. “What’s wrong with him?” 

He puts a hand solemnly on her shoulder. “We don’t know for sure yet, but they’re giving him the best care they can. Chin up, kiddo. Your dad’s a fighter. He’ll pull through.” 

An attempted smile pulls at Letta’s lips, but tears form in her eyes at the same time. 

“Okay?”

She nods.

“Let’s get you something to eat, then we can come back here if you’d like.” 

This time, Letta agrees to leave the hospital, but only after she makes sure the nurses will call _as soon_ as there’s news. She marches back toward Vegeta and Goku and nods once, indicating that she’s ready to go. 

Vegeta doesn’t know how to tell her that it’s okay for her to cry if she wants to. 

\---

Piccolo glances up at the trio as they walk into the cafe. Their tense, worried faces tell him the situation is not good. 

Vegeta watches Goku, whose lips are pressed tight in a thin line, as he plunks himself down in one of the bar chairs and stares at something beyond the four walls of the cafe. 

Letta follows suit and rests her chin in her hand. 

“Would you like a sandwich?” Vegeta asks her, examining the contents of the food case. Looking after Letta will take his mind off the myriad of questions that are bouncing around in his head. _Who? Why?_ and perhaps most importantly, _How?_. He looks expectantly at her when he doesn’t receive a verbal response. 

Letta shakes her head. 

“Soup?”

“Mm-mm,” Letta mumbles in the negative. 

“Granola and yogurt?” 

Another no. 

“You have to eat something.” 

“Don’t wanna,” Letta mumbles, pouting and tracing her finger along the wood grain of the bar top. 

“A muffin it is,” Vegeta says, moving around to the back of the counter and washing his hands before helping himself. 

Piccolo pulls out a tray of the muffins for Letta to choose from. She picks a plain carrot muffin and Vegeta takes it to warm it up.

As Piccolo works, Vegeta steps in beside him. “Thanks for coming in on such short notice.” 

“Launch was more than happy to cover for me this afternoon. She said it was no trouble.” 

“Tell her I owe her big time, then,” Vegeta said. He surveys the room, empty but for their small party. “Seems quiet in here.” 

Piccolo shrugs. “Works out this way. Krillin and Seventeen are working in the back, I have the front all to myself.” 

“I’ll work one of your weekend days this week,” Vegeta says. 

“Not necessary,” Piccolo says with an adamant shake of his head, and the matter is settled. 

Vegeta returns to Letta’s side with a warm muffin and a side of butter. Shortly after, Piccolo wordlessly sets a bowl of soup in front of Goku, who, despite his upset, has no trouble diving into it like a starved man. 

Letta, on the other hand, picks and nibbles at the muffin but mostly leaves it uneaten as the minutes tick by. 

There’s no conversation at the front of the cafe. Only the soft lilting sounds of the music over the speakers and the occasional clattering from the back of the cafe fill the room. 

\---

“Goku called,” Bulma says when she phones Vegeta later that day. “Why didn’t you tell me Raditz is in the hospital?” 

Vegeta finishes straightening out the makeshift bed he’s made on Raditz’s couch as he formulates a response. “I didn’t want to bother you at work,” he finally replies. In reality, he doesn’t want Raditz and his issues to bog Bulma down like they do him. 

“Bullshit,” Bulma says, seeing right through his pitiful excuse. “That’s exactly the kind of thing you’re supposed to interrupt me at work for, Vegeta.” 

There’s an edge to her voice that he can’t recall ever having directed at him before. 

“It has been a very busy and long day,” Vegeta mutters, pinching his temples where a dull aching pounds at his skull. “I was going to tell you when I got home.”

He swears he detects a muffled sigh. 

“Fine, can I come over at least?” 

“I’m not home,” Vegeta says. “I’m staying at Raditz’s with Letta tonight. We spent all afternoon in the hospital with no change, and it took a long time to convince her to come back. She’s insisting that Kakarot stay, too.” 

“Have you been home at all today?” 

Her tone worries him. “Not since this morning, why?” 

“Uh,” Bulma says. “I think somebody’s inside your house.” 

\---

As he turns into the Capsule Corp compound, the hairs on the back of Vegeta’s neck stand up. He gets the feeling he’s being watched, but there’s not a soul on the road. He checks the rearview mirror; in the distance, a pair of tail lights disappears over a hill. 

“Be good for Bulma. I’ll call her if I hear from the hospital,” Vegeta tells Letta as he walks her to the front door of the Briefs mansion. “I just have to get a few things from my house.”

“Can’t I come with you?” Letta asks. She wants to hear the news at the same time Vegeta does. 

“Not this time,” Vegeta replies and looks up to find Bulma opening the door. 

“Come in,” she says warmly to Letta. She glances over the eight-year-old’s head at Vegeta, who can see the fear hidden in her expression. _Be careful_ , she mouths to him. 

As if he is ever anything but. 

Vegeta stops a short way from his place to collect his thoughts and prep his pistol. He parks in a place where he can see through the trees, but the branches are too thick, and they obscure his vision. There’s nobody parked in his driveway from what he can see, and the lights are off inside. 

And when opens the door, he finds the cabin empty. A vision of the tail lights disappearing over the hill flashes in his mind. They belonged to a black vehicle. 

\---

The doctors allow Letta in to see her father early the next morning. He’s asleep, there’s a tube down his throat, and he’s surrounded by IV machines, but he’s there in living colour. 

Vegeta waits in the hallway. 

Once Letta returns, she looks brighter. “The doctor said dad should wake up today and that they fixed what was wrong with him.” 

Vegeta allows himself a half-smile. “That’s good news. He’ll probably be here for another couple of days, so I’m going to stay with you for a while longer.” 

“Can we sleep over at your house?” Letta asks. “It’s closer.” 

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Vegeta says, struggling to find an excuse. “Besides, your couch is way more comfortable than my bed.” 

Letta scrunches up her face in disbelief. “Yeah, right! That couch is _awful_.” 

Vegeta just lifts an eyebrow at her and shrugs. “I think it’s better for you to sleep in your own bed. You’ve had enough upset for now.” 

“But you’re old, doesn’t your back hurt when you sleep on the couch?” 

Vegeta frowns. He’s not _old_. “I’m not old.” 

“You’re the same age as dad, so if he’s old then so are you,” Letta argues. Vegeta finds her logic to be infallible. 

“I never expected to live to be this old,” he murmurs to himself. 

After an hour of waiting and surreptitious stomach growls from Letta, Vegeta finally takes them both out for breakfast. Afterward, there’s more waiting, browsing the hospital gift shop, and exploring the grounds outside until lunch time. And while they’re out at lunch, Vegeta receives a call from the nurse. 

_“He’s awake. And there’s something he wants to talk to you about.”_

\---

“What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” Vegeta growls the moment he pulls the curtain around Raditz’s bed. “ _Poison_?” 

Raditz weakly lets his head fall back on the pillow. “Fuck,” he moans. “I’m so sorry. Is Letta still here? I need to tell you something.” 

Vegeta peeks out from behind the curtain. “No, Kakarot took her for a walk. Now would you tell me the truth this time, you asshole? What’s going on?” 

“That poison was meant for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come hang out with me on tumblr](http://jadefyre.tumblr.com)!
> 
> as always, comments, love, fanmail, flailing, anger at cliffhangers etc. are appreciated <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you'd like to share fanart or even just be friends, I have a [tumblr](http://jadefyre.tumblr.com) and I'm on Discord (jadefyre#5004) too! 
> 
> I also have a [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/jadefyre) where I post chapters and oneshots early (as I'm sure I've mentioned multiple times while you were reading this story) and a [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/A084GEX) too. 
> 
> If you need more Z Cafe shenanigans, check out the other installments in the Black Coffee 'Verse series!
> 
>  **Author's Note August 27, 2018** I am really unhappy with a lot of the things I've written in this sequel so far. I will be going back and rewriting some earlier chapters and updating them as they come. I'll let you know with the next update which ones have changed.


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